Paranoid
by Flailingkittylover
Summary: She's been told hell lives across the sea, been told how something so simple as the inhabitant's breathing is a sinful crime. Annie wonders if the island dwellers will soon think the same of them. Manga spoilers. Eventual Aruani Romance. Canon-verse Pre-Trost arc.
1. Chapter 1

****Warning as this chapter has some disturbing imagery****

* * *

The sore ankles of a five-year-old drum a beat against a stool's wooden legs. Only the small girl's face can be seen over the countertop, still much too small for her arms to rise and easily eat off her plate as Father does at her side. The sleeves of her jacket slide down her wrists as Annie leans back and sips on her glass of chocolate milk. She's bored and Father and she don't talk much unless the knowledge of fighting and enduring broken bones isn't being communicated. The racket of laughs and chatter rises within the small restaurant and curiosity twists the small girl's head around.

This diner is much like any other diner she has been to, though there are fewer people holding bottles laying on the floor or swaying through the double doors here. Annie has seen Father drink too, but he is more controlled than some of the civilians she has seen passed out in the dirty streets of Liberio.

More people walk into the crowded diner where everyone converses pleasantly, where there are smacks on the back and guffaws so loud, nearby tables scowl in nonverbal reprimand toward the rowdy noise. There's cheerfulness around almost every table and Annie sees that unlike everyone else, both she and Father are isolated—they don't belong in such a warm atmosphere.

A pulsing ache similar to the pain her ankles radiates with spreads through Annie's chest. The dream of being on the receiving end of friendly crowds and smiling faces has always squirmed beneath her skin, but today, the yearning is unbearable. Father and she have exchanged smiles—he even gave a few pats on her head or a treat when she's done well—but he's never been so brazen with affection as the parent across the way who smiles at and strokes her happy toddler's hair.

She wonders something.

Annie takes a quick sip then coughs a little, pretending to be straining to clear her throat. The front of her body is aimed at the family, leaving a clue for Father to look where she is, to maybe see what other families do and try it on his daughter sometimes; Father is unusually perceptive but she hopes he won't see through her trick. Her next chest-shaking cough sounds more labored. Another series of ragged coughs allows Annie to hear fabric rustle—the sound of Father's body moving.

Suddenly, there's a warm, five-pronged sensation on her middle back. Annie closes her eyes, waits with bated breath toward what would happen. The air in her lungs is coughed out when a stone-firm hand drums between her shoulder blades.

"Controlled coughs, Annie." Father instructs, sounding a bit more annoyed than indifferent. "There, that outta clear that gunk out of your lungs. You get too excited when you drink that filth."

Father returns to eating and their silence is the only one shared within the lively restaurant. Annie's head hangs, her lowered shoulders hinting toward the misery stabbing her chest. After two long seconds, she successfully summons an emotionless glaze over her eyes, blocking inner torment once more.

A clack of coins rolls around on the counter. Father stands up and strips the girl hanging her head of her near-empty glass.

"Time to go." Father orders roughly.

Annie sees his plate is only half-finished and even a five-year-old conditioned to not refuse a command can't help but question, "Why?"

_Did I do something wrong? _She feels her question more so insinuates. Annie's heart races out of fear she's in trouble as she stares at her parent.

Rather than respond, hardened hands lift Annie up by her underarms and drop her onto the floor. He pulls on his child's smaller hand, passing through the wooden double doors and walking within the dimly lit city streets.

Curfew is nearing and the light from the sidewalk lanterns are not near bright enough to keep the pitch-black streets of the district well lit. The streets are cold, quiet, and a lonely night like this poisons a child's imagination so easily; Annie's mind conjures beasts made from shadows tailing her as she walks, stitching themselves to few passerby's shadows or running along faintly lit walls—they always hunt her from behind. Annie unknowingly clenches Father's hand a little tighter and relief trickles in when he answers with one reassuring clench.

Atop the sound of their shoes clomping along the pavement, Annie hears another noise starting to mix in with their footsteps. Father must hear the new stamping sounds too as his walking speed steadily increases. The sounds soon match their own footfalls pitch, so much so that the small girl can't keep back a whimper, unable to keep up a speed her Father's tugging orders her to keep up with.

Ice water trickles down Annie's spine when the pace behind their backs becomes so much quicker, Father quickly picks her up and darts into the closest alleyway. Curses are shouted and Annie would have shouted in alarm had Father not covered her mouth.

Sounds of sprinting feet and clattering garbage cans resonates within the alleyway's narrow channels. Father's zig-zagging through the alleyway alongside the looming shadows from the ghetto's tall buildings aid them in slipping out of sight. Breathless, he then stops next to a heap of garbage in a dark corner. Annie is set down while her anxious parent makes a hole as quietly as he can. Once the space is complete, a serious face stares into Annie's.

"Just hold your breath." He commands in his strong, level tone. "And don't make a sound."

When he picks up his daughter and places her inside, a rancid scent assaults Annie's sense of smell and the bags surrounding her leak a layer of slime into her clothes. She looks to Father pleadingly—she doesn't want to be in here—but he shushes her by putting a finger to his lips. Father places more bags oozing putrid odors over her head until she's hidden completely and with all the effect of a sneaky mouse, quietly slinks into the shadow across the way until he is absorbed by nothing but black.

Annie takes in through the hole of her refuge how the muscles within Father's silhouette are flexing, how eye-torches of focused fire blaze through a layer of night as he lies in wait. An anxious noise attempts to pry free but Annie slaps her palms over her mouth before any sound can escape.

After agonizingly long minutes of waiting, yells, cursing, and the clanging of a metallic trash can rolling makes the young girl tremble. The boots who followed them congregate in an intersection of alleyways close by.

"Did you find them?" A female voice asks.

"No, the slimy bastards got away before we could grab them." A gruffer voice responds.

"_Fuck 'em_." A younger but passionate voice joins in. "We can let the two be for now. It's not like the termites won't get theirs one day. Let's hurry up and re-group with the others so we can finish this."

The strange people follow the order by sprinting away simultaneously. The iron bands of panic around Annie's lungs slowly loosen and loosen until the noise from running feet grows from faint to gone.

Father walks out from his hiding spot and as moonlight highlights half his body, the white beams expose the flurry of emotions crinkling his tanned face. He scoops up the garbage bags keeping his daughter's small space of refuge hidden and as he reaches down for her, the sound of glass shattering then a blood-curdling scream permeates the air.

The tense man crouches. "Listen." He directs though Annie notices his level tone has wavered. "I'm going to pick you up and you're going to close your eyes and ears. You aren't allowed to listen or see anything until I say so. Understand?"

He's scaring her, the trembling and the widening of her eye sockets make him realize so. A cacophony of glass breaking and guns firing jolts the father and daughter. Then one scream gains the company of many, all reaching a more desperate pitch and there's a _smell, _something which burns Annie's nostrils so ferociously, her stomach grows queasy.

Hands the frightened child isn't used to being so consoling take hold of her shoulders. "_Annie_," He calls for her attention once more. "Did you hear me?"

Annie hears the signal then, the coaxing of command through an oddly tamer voice. Her bangs bounce with her ardent nod. The young girl's body floats up into the air before being tucked into her father's strong shoulder. She cups her hands over her ears, keeps her small face tucked into Father's shoulder with his hand holding the back of her head. The toxic poison of terror shakes the inside of Annie's bones when a blaring siren joins in on the loud hysteria.

Right as Father reaches the end of the alleyway, a crowd of police sprints down the sidewalk as civilians run the opposite way. The stampede of bodies bumps into the pair hard enough that Father grunts and Annie winces. Shoulders and bodies collide and through the mayhem and shifting grip of her father moving through masses of people, his grip slips and exposes her face. A light so bright shines behind her eyelids that Annie can't help but open them.

Tongues of orange and yellow swirl in an erratic twister around the diner and there are hands trying to get through the sliver-wide opening in the chained entry way—black, burned hands. People donned in black laugh as they stand in front of a line of bodies hanging before the diner and hold guns which belch bullets into the streets. The police running toward the burning eatery catch the group's attention and one lays down a suppressive fire toward the officers at the same time Father dives behind a corner, but he still wasn't in time—he didn't save her from the rest.

Etched into her brain as he runs is the image of bodies with signs hanging from their noosed necks, all the black-painted words forming a sentence:

"_No peace. No home. No justice for Devil Spawn."_

* * *

Father decides to keep away from the city after that day. He doesn't allow Annie off of their premises either, not that he did so initially.

Father makes a deal with a vendor with whom they have known for some time, offering the baffled man who often traffics food along their home's path money; Annie isn't sure how Father has found so many of the gold pieces he shows the merchant so quickly. A couple of days later, Annie overhears the two men speaking about a newspaper the vendor had filched for her Father, but she has trouble understanding.

Words like "lynching" and "gang-related "and "posing as Eldians" escape the five-year-old though she understands when the man reads the headline of "The Worst Liberio Internment Camp Has Seen".

Annie hears a phlegmy inhale than the hacking of spit before the vendor snarls. "If they got past the guards at the gates with _weapons_ of all things, I bet they were in on this whole plan. Bastards, I tell you. The whole lot of them. Those little shits plotted this attack and I'll be _damned_ if they get away with it. By any means necessary, we'll get back at them. Right?"

Father never responds. His stoic nature guides him in only greeting and thanking the merchant for his goods. He sees the man off once his twin horses and wagon finally clinks and clatters away on the bumpy dirt road winding through the forest.

Stuck in a fetal position in her spot under the windowsill, trauma storms within Annie's unsupervised mind.

Father has never worn a face so hardened or as frightened as he did in the alley. Worse so, no matter how many times Annie blinks fiercely in the day or the night, the image of blackened, dangling feet swaying left to right and faces glazed in death before pillars of fire burns vividly. Her chin tucks into her chest, curling into herself tighter, fighting against flashes and whimpers which desperately want to spill out of her.

"Annie. "The booming voice of Father jars Annie from her thoughts and lifts her chin up.

He stares down at her from the windowsill, his stern face blank and unreadable. "Training yard. Fifteen seconds."

Discipline springs up her small body from the floor and sets Annie off into a sprint. Her bare feet soon stand in the dirt, ankles slammed close together and body kept straight as an arrow.

"Training will amp up considerably after today." Father informs her as he walks in front of her. "The next wave of Warriors will be chosen within the next few years. We must make sure you are prepared."

A question separates Annie's lips but the deepening frown and crinkling of the space between Father's brows drives her mouth to close.

"Frailty and a small stature are not desired characteristics in soldiers or warriors, Annie." He remarks emotionlessly. "And you are weak and defenseless, so easy to have been plucked away should that group have found us." The girl's shoulders slump dispiritedly from her parent's words before his thunderous voice rises again. "But you won't be such things forever. Not after I teach you everything. Then this world will have every reason to fear you. Now_ focus. _I will not tolerate it if you hesitate even for a second."

Strong forearms pull up and his knee bends as his right leg pulls forward. "Show me your stance."

Annie acts as her father's reflection, stamping the ball of her foot on the ground in front of her and zipping her forearms up to match his own.

Her heart races oddly when a smirk barely raises the corner of his lips. "_Excellent."_

* * *

Yellow strands of hair sway with the wind as the boat steers the group away. The others with families more exuberant than her own wave goodbye and blow kisses to her comrades. Devout followers take off their caps and cheer while Father remains the odd man out, only keeping the hand not gripping his cane up high.

The older girl remembers the dullness of his eyes, the borders being so red and puffy as he sobbed his regrets, squeezing her so tightly that her shoulders ached. Annie wonders if he maintains an impassive mask to her because of how vulnerable he made himself, how he may be at risk of doing so again in public or if the fear of their near-lynching grips his attention toward his surroundings still.

A shiver runs through her. Annie looks away from the crowd, now focusing on the slice of land across their channel where their mission resides.

For decades propaganda and Marleyian insults have made her people believe in the fairytales formulated by a government whose no different than the Eldian empire they vilify. Annie ponders if unlike them, the island dwellers are living peacefully within a self-enclosed fish bowl or if they are as barbaric as everyone else.

She wouldn't be surprised. People always end up being the same and if the Paradisians genetic makeup is truly constructed of the same blood and bones, Annie expects to find creatures who are as cowardly and spineless as she and so many others here.

At the same time Annie's mind wanders, a young boy holds a beloved book close to his chest. He eagerly calls out to his bored friend who sits beside a crystalline river.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky is blue and weather is warm but the young boy trembling behind his grandfather doesn't notice. The impact of the previous day weighs heavily on his mind: how Eren said his mother's body hung down a Titan's blood-soaked chin, how the ragged screams of those who were left behind as their boat sailed away chilled his blood. An anxiety which corrodes the nerves and festers in the gut fights within Armin and his acute focus soon shows him the erosion of hope and growth of fear is shared by everyone else around him.

Locals of the town impose an otherness on the crowd of refugees and crying children while panic and disorientation winds up the surviving populace of Shingansina.

The already fragile social fabric looks to be ripping apart by the seams already.

"I heard there wasn't just one but_ two_ of those things." The young boy's hearing picks up from behind him.

"It's true!" A man whose voice teeters on turning frantic backs up. "I saw it! The red one destroyed the first, then a Titan that looked like it had plated armor broke the next!"

"They were there, then they were gone in an instant!" A booming voice adds in. "It's God's judgement, I'm telling you!"

"Calm yourself before you jump on the cult wagon." A more level voice counters. "These must have been a new breed of Aberrants."

"Aberrants which can come up out of _nowhere_?" A female rebukes. "You're mad!"

"And if they _are_ a new breed, who's to say there are not more of them?!"

"This is...this is truly the apocalypse." A shaking voice stammers through chattering teeth. "If such creatures exist, they can kill us at any time."

"Why are we just standing around here then?!" A young man shouts.

"_Hey!"_ A soldier at the front barks. "Pipe down over there! Or else we'll put you to the back of the breadline! You want that?!"

The clamor dies then, but only a little. The gossip of conspiracy, impending mayhem, and God's justice spreads through hushed whispers and families tuck themselves away in the corners of the city square. Armin's trembling never stops. A small group of children much like his own friends take food and he keeps his blue eyes down. They look to be alone with no one but each other to look out for and the considerate boy's throat and face burns from the thought.

Families are broken here, reduced to scrounging for food like rats battling for a morsel. He's lived his life feeling like such creatures, of being a mooch and a weakling devoid of any capability to defend himself; to be so easily discarded and forgotten if he had died like so many others yesterday. Was this whole thing some cruel joke life had against him? Was losing mother, father, and the remaining innocence of his friends not enough to prove he was worthless?

"And as quick as the Titans had come, so had they left." He hears his grandfather murmur under his breath. He looks up, catching his relative's thoughtful scratching into his beard. "Such behavior is unlike any Titan I've ever heard of."

He tilts his head at grandfather, puzzled and wondering what else his equally curious elder thinks. The grizzled man spots his grandchild's stare in the corner of his hazel eye and the wrinkles around his tanned face grow more pronounced with his smile.

A hand calloused by a hoe and pitchfork pat the boy's head. "Don't fret too much over the unknown, Armin. You'll be fine. I see that much and more in you." Before he knew it, three loaves of bread make it into the young boy's arms. "Take these and go feed your friends. All we need to concern ourselves with is that we're safe now."

Uncertainty bites at the back of Armin's head, but the faith in grandfather's words paired with a warm smile allows the anxiety to slowly unwind. Grandfather's presence has always been warm and consoling—so much like how mother and father were— and the young boy is relieved he's kept one torch of light in a new bleak, shadowy path.

Armin runs along, trying to blink away old tears of frustration. Grandfather is his bedrock and now, it's his turn to be a support for his friends who stand dejected and confused nearby.

* * *

Time flies by as fast as this tragedy, and once more, it snuffs out one more light from Armin's life.

A worn straw-hat is all the remaining Arlert has to remember grandfather by alongside memories he fears will fade over time..._if _he ever makes it to such an age.

With a determined fire which sharpens the voice, Eren expresses his disdain for this cruelty life has thrust upon them and announces his plans to join the military. Armin has to say his oath again when Eren's confused gaze darts to his friend.

"Me too!" Armin repeats himself.

His hands clutch the frayed rims of grandfather's hat as Mikasa follows after Armin with, "I'll join too."

It always takes a minute for Eren to accept his friend's new plans to replace his bad, original idea, but he eventually relents. They've spent a year wandering like vermin through the streets, wondering when their next meal will be, where they will sleep next. They're all tired, Armin has sensed their fatigue since the very beginning and following them down this perilous path could be the only way he can ever find a way to repay both his friends and honor grandfather for saving him from himself.

Their losses have bubbled up the determination of following through on enlisting, just like a similar trio who uproots tree stumps in the fields beyond their city.

* * *

The mass of adolescents standing with feet shoulder-width apart is filled with a strange bunch.

An imbecile with a shaved head has his eyes pulled up by Shadis. Another blond girl somehow shorter than her and barren of Annie's combat expertise has the audacity to think she will survive basic training; the same could be said for the boy with a blond mop who Annie is sure she could snap in two with only the tip of her foot. There's even a freckled boy who devotes himself to a monarch who would throw him away like the shit below his royal boot. These cadets are soft children who are unexposed to life's cruelties. They hold no power like Marley and the world proclaims; all Annie sees are frightened, greedy creatures trapped in an obsolete time and stand ripe for the world's picking.

Annie eventually notices another breed hiding amongst the crowd of cadets.

A fierce brunette stands with his feet planted strongly, his green leaf eyes unforgiving. A dominant scent reeks of the impassive half-Asian across her way and a pony-tailed girl's stoic expression could rival Annie's own. To her surprise, there is a handful of faces of stone and blazing fire, but they are rare gems within a crowd of green—and mostly stupid—youths.

When the crowd splits apart and the female brunette who Shadis hisses is insolent keeps running, Annie turns the back of her leather jacket to this world.

There is no point in speaking with the tenants within the walls. Their race was sentenced to death and either Titans or her own people would carry out the deed.


	3. Chapter 3

The twelve-year-old boy who announced himself as Arlert is hopelessly uncoordinated. It's amazing to Annie just how easy it is to kick his fragile ankle, to grab and throw him like a lifeless sack of flour over her shoulder. The boy who could be confused with a walking stick groans, entangled in his own limbs on the dusty floor, but perhaps it is because Annie has rendered many like this that such a humiliating spectacle doesn't stop him from raising a few eyebrows.

Two days later, the focused boy joins Annie in being the first few who have mastered balancing in the maneuver gear. His oddly light body rises and soon after, he hovers and stays over the ground with a hummingbird's grace. His focused face fights through the dripping sweat until a smile slowly appears in time with the oohs and aahs of the crowd.

River-blue eyes gleam with pride but to Annie, mastering the oddest contraption she has ever seen won't make Arlert's odds of living all the more possible. He's only learned how to run away from danger just like she suspects the shaved-side headed moron who boasts to his two karate-master-impersonating friends will.

Still, the crowd cheers and asks for the stunned blond and his friend's secret to success as they unbuckle themselves from their gear. He's meek and feeble—Annie judges— a stunted tree caught in the larger tree shadow his female counterpart casts.

She doesn't understand why people are impressed but supposes even the runts eventually have their time in the spotlight.

Contrary to his friends, the loud brunette hungry for validation cries out in frustration. His attempt at mastering the gear is as hopeless as his baby-faced friend's fighting. The fiery brunette hangs motionless, eyes wide with horror and embarrassment from all the faces watching and laughing.

A sneer threatens to crack her blank face. The tanned-skin boy's ferocity in voicing his dreams caught her attention—how could it not? — though Annie doubts such unrealistic goals are attainable. Titans are the least of all these island dweller's worries and he is the loudest but smallest ant in this isolated ant farm; Annie finds no fault in this crowd laughing at him.

The two friends who follow the driven boy's every step run to his side. The young blond smiles encouragingly at his troubled friend, guides him in what areas he needs to focus on: how balance stems from the core and position of the hips. Such well-meaning intent didn't deserve the uncouth dismissal of his help from his friend, yelling with a fervent wave of his hand that he'll figure out balancing in the gear on his own. And still, the smallest of the group smiles warmly at the brunette, nodding reluctantly but abiding by his wish in stepping to the side.

The sight sparks alive the fiery burn of anger in Annie's chest.

These people have the audacity to _smile_ toward this charade of playing soldier and useless training. What's more upsetting is the group's runt bows his head and submits to command too easily, a clear sign he's either another useless drone to the military or a spineless cadet. She hardly kept her mouth shut around Reiner; to be surrounded by loyal empty-heads comparable to him may truly corrupt her remaining sanity.

The girl favoring solitude walks away.

Arlert should savor that smile; Annie knows he will not be able to wear it often soon enough.

* * *

The clink of gun frames being put together envelops the classroom. The focused group sits shoulder to shoulder, shining muzzles and cleaning the inner workings of rifles which Annie wonders might be held against her and her comrades one day. Reiner and Bertolt join Annie in being ahead of the others alongside the ever-mysterious Asian sitting behind her.

The girl's ambitious and loud friend tries to be quick like her but something is clearly awry as the trigger refuses to be pulled back. Hands which Annie notices Jean and a few other boys pay too much attention to try to help her friend who grouses curses, but like the blond close by, he shoves her away.

Annie does somewhat of the same to Reiner and Bertolt, though she is far less brazen about it. But unlike them, she accepts her lone wolf brand and doesn't find them to be close friends. They are people she is forced to deal with for a common goal and actively omits herself from an extension of their friendship.

All the more reason why Annie doesn't understand how those three maintain such a peculiarly close relationship.

Is there an obligation between the three? Does the tallest of the group do all she does out of motherly instinct? Or is there something romantic? Annie can't quite tell; she's never been good of spotting romantic hints. All Annie knows is the girl labeled an "exotic beauty" sticks primarily to the green-eyed dope and is never without her scarf, even on hotter days.

Their smaller friend looks either content at being a third wheel or used to it as he simply resumes in building his rifle with his freckled friend. They enjoy talking to each other while Eren grumbles in frustration. The mysterious Asian carries on and finishes her rifle's construction in record time—of course—though Annie spots how she was only.5 seconds ahead of her.

Again, Annie isn't sure for a second time, especially of why her being ahead by so little upsets her so much.

* * *

Running boots sink and rise out of thick, slippery mud. Rain hailing from a smoke-grey sky pours over the cadets and high trees trap them from all sides. Nearly everyone wheezes and strains to run as a backpack filled with brick weighs on their backs and tired calves.

Annie peers back behind her, witnessing the shared struggle and scoffs. These people have the luxury of wearing rain gear— an offer Magath and his countrymen dismissed with either a laugh or threatening snarl; these people don't have it as bad as they think. Her inquisitive gaze peers over her shoulder again, spotting how the slender weakest link stumbles behind everyone else.

Reiner somehow fell back enough to run at his side. Annie blinks in what was at first confusion when he strips the boy's gear, hissing at him something she can't hear but isn't stupid enough that she can't assume. Reiner is a devoted fool, but she grants that he is at his best somewhat sympathetic. He stumbled behind herself and everyone else in Liberio's training grounds, never succeeded at much of anything like the boy he runs next to; Annie wonders if this is Reiner's way of helping those who were just like him.

"Hurry up!" Shadis orders from his trotting horse. "If you make me late for dinner, you can expect 10 extra laps for dessert!"

Annie picks up the pace with ease, the years of rigid conditioning steering her and Bertolt to the front of the pack. The brunette fool jealous of his female friend holding first place works strenuously to hold fourth behind Annie and Bertolt. Right when the short girl looks back to find the weaker blond, Reiner sprints up next to her.

The bulky teenager smiles down at her though Annie responds with the bridge of her nose pinching for a brief second. Frozen blue eyes then notice the extra pack slung over his shoulder is gone.

When her green-hooded head swivels around, the one holding last place runs alone again. Fighting against burning muscles and labored breathing, Annie sees the weak embers in his tired eyes begin to burn into a fire.

Annie squints her eyes in suspicious curiosity before returning her face forward.

Arlert is pitifully weak and timid, but at least he's persistent.


	4. Chapter 4

Annie has never felt so free while up so high. All the time she spent hovering above the ground was within a web of smooth muscle and tendons, trapped in a living mechanism whose sole purpose was to crush and stomp.

Here Annie can drift from branch to branch, twirl and slice the cushy-neck of Titan dummies like it's some macabre dance. Her hair whips alongside her pale face as she flies higher above squad mates who cautiously swing below. A rope retraction and leaning her body back angles Annie's hips up until anchors shoot up and latch on the farthest branch the gear can reach. A gust of steam blasts out behind her and Annie rushes up so fast, she barely registers crossing her arms when breaching the forest's thick-leaved awning.

Pinkish-purple clouds and the orange setting sun rests above the canopy of trees. Her body hovers in freefall for two of the longest seconds time provides her and slowly, she closes her eyes. Annie soaks in this split second when everything is calm and soothing around her, when nothing but the sun's dull heat beating against her skin is all she feels.

The clench and upturn of her gut from her gradual descent shoots Annie's eyelids open. She's reluctant to let go and leave so soon, but instinct guides her body toward the large crevice splitting the tree's leaf canopy. Metal anchors launch forward, making landfall on a branch just as she starts swinging back into the tree maze they practice in.

When she returns, the boy Annie sees as he-who-can-never-not-be-last-place is twenty feet from her.

Annie sees his muscles tighten through his sleeves, and still, his blades only manage to slice through one foot of the Wood-Titans neck targets. Arlert doesn't seem to care though. He drifts and falls in the air much too long for comfort and a sense of danger born from war exposure prickles at the back of Annie's neck. When his face exposes itself from his long hair, he sports the most disgustingly kiddish grin she's ever seen.

He's having _fun _and anger pulls the side of her lip down. As if sensing her ire, the boy's head turns, exchanging a confused look to her focused one.

"You daydream too much." Annie scolds monotonously.

His smile becomes wobbly. "Sorry. We've been working so hard lately, I can't help but try to find a break. We need it sometimes." His eyes travel around the green expanse of the forest. "It feels so freeing here."

_Break, _Annie mentally scoffs. The oblivious-to-the-world boy appears to distress when Annie regards him sourly. She zooms forward without a word to lose herself in the trees.

There were no breaks in life—Father taught her that.

Arlert and the others would be wise to learn that now.

* * *

"I said to take the_ left!" _Springer orders loudly. "No! _No!_ _Your_ left!"

_"_I called the right though!" Blouse fights back with fiery eyes. "It's the better angle!"

"I told you _I'm_ faster so _I'll _do it!"

"No! You're doing it all wrong!"

"Oh, for the love of—will you both just shut up and _grab it?!" _Kirstein barks.

Annie tends to her horse as Springer dives after a gobbling turkey. Dust clouds rise as he misses and skids along the dirt while his large, feathered meal speeds away with his female friend hot on its orange heels.

Life must be so simple when one is simple-minded and devoid of any thought, Annie figures as she watches the trio panic and strain to capture a panicked bird. Their stomach so much as rumbles unpleasantly and the whole scouting party needs to be put to a halt. The only ones who don't join them is the rest of their group, the two boys who stare over the edge of a nearby cliff. The unbreakable pair have been loitering there for some time and with her horse peacefully drinking from a nearby river, Annie walks over to find out what they are seeing.

Nature's cool sighs blow so pleasantly on Annie's face, the heat is easily countered. The weather only compliments a cloudless sky even more when Annie reaches the cliff's edge.

Beyond their resting place is a grassy vastness completely void of mankind's presence. Annie knows only small, calm rivers and cramped forests, not cliffsides weeping crystal waterfalls or pine-cone shaped trees stringing like a line of dominoes throughout the valley. Twin sets of snow-tipped mountains wind halfway through the lush valley until they end and Paradis's wall seen far on the horizon fills the gap between the two divides. Everything is nature in its simplest form and Annie can't tear her sight away.

"It's beautiful." A voice breathes in awe. Annie's eyes snap over to the blond boy keeping his back to her. "And to think this is only just where we live...there's _more_ out there, a world with miles and miles of this kind of sight with no walls to get in your way. It could even have mountains so high they reached the clouds. Oh! And the sand hills too! I wonder if it's just like the dirt we have here. I can't _wait _to find out!"

Annie frowns inwardly. Even if the aspiring explorer survived this hellish fishbowl, he will never reach the spaces beyond the sea. A military life gave her only glimpses of the outside world, but the internment zones kept their kind secluded from everything else. Why should fate react differently for him?

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Arlert directs his face to Annie then to his brown-haired companion.

His stubborn friend harrumphs. "Of course it's exciting. Now just think of how much _more _exciting traveling will be once we can focus on getting back the land we lost." A bloodthirsty sneer cracks his bronze face. "And that won't happen until we get rid of the Titans. Those damn things are what's keeping us caged here. Remember to keep your head in the game, Armin. We can't explore anything until every last one of them is purged."

Hesitation wrinkles the forehead of the young cadet's friend, though his golden fringes bob from his understanding nod. The pair looks back over the land gushing with life below.

Throughout all the deaths and failures in advancing Titan understanding, hope somehow survives in searching blue and smoldering green. Irritation binds tightly in Annie's chest, constricting tight enough that she can no longer stay and quickly twists around. She doesn't acknowledge the call of her name from the pair behind her.

"I caught it!" Annie hears the female simpleton cheer in the distance. The huntress brings up the legs of the turkey tight in her grip right as a dastardly look eclipses over her eyes. "No amount of gobbling will save you now." She threatens darkly.

The huntress mumbles and counts on her available fingers all the alternative ways to cook the turkey as her shorter friend dusts off his uniform.

"I tired him out for you." Springer huffs tiredly with crossed arms. "So, save me a big piece!"

"We'll all share!" The brunette twists her head around to look to Annie. "Annie! What's your favorite piece? Better claim now before all the good parts are gone!"

Annie keeps her silence and grabs the empty sack hanging from the horse's saddle. "Give me whichever." She responds blankly. "I'll see what else I can scavenge in the forest."

She keeps walking through the bushes until she can't hear her comrades loud offers to help her anymore. This new setting when she is alone and searching is at least familiar, to be dipping between thick brushes and a maze of trees in a hunt for food. For a split second, it reminds her of Father, in a time where she is young and his motivating smile or words were more common than once in a blue moon.

But the two boys voicing their dreams have made too much of a toxic imprint on her. The fury erodes through the memory of Father and the tightness in Annie's chest returns.

The daydreamers have the blissful ignorance to believe they are free, can venture outside Paradis's and the internment zone's walls without so much as a foul face staring down at them. The well-read friend thinks he can go even _further _beyond that, explore the oddities he's read about without a brand highlighting what he is. How can they even_ think_ of such things?

Internal flames fume so fiercely, Annie's grip on her rifle becomes tight enough for the wood to groan.

The blaze of anger twisting inside her isn't out of annoyance, Annie then realizes.

She's _jealous_ of them.

* * *

"Hey...it's been awhile since we've seen Annie." Armin addresses with concern. He looks into the shadowy tunnels of the trees surrounding them as he stands up from his spot in the dirt. "Did she say when she would be back?"

"She's fine." Eren quickly answers. He lounges against a tree with flaky bark as he stares into the sunset sky. "She'll come around when she wants to."

"Even so, it's getting dark. "Armin continues. "We shouldn't just sit here and wait."

"Her kicks will probably break the spine of anything that comes at her." Connie responds with a shudder. "She'll be fine."

Armin's glance toward Connie understands his point but he remains dissatisfied. "I'll wait five more minutes. If she's not back by then, I'm going out to look for her. One of us should have gone with her to begin with."

"Yeah, because she makes such _great_ company." Jean sarcastically adds. "I'd rather talk to a tree stump than be stuck scavenging with her again. Just leave her be like she wants to be. She never strays on her own for too long."

The side of Armin's eye flinches. He isn't a fan of how open the disdain is for Annie's self-isolating nature—then again, he isn't a fan of how Jean antagonizes Eren and how his friend returns the favor either. A group this size with such a different dynamic than what he grew up with is something he is still getting used to.

From afar, Eren sees how deep the roots of determination go in his friend. "Fine." Eren says with a long sigh. "We'll give her five more minutes then I'll join you in looking for her. Happy?"

"While we all wait then…" Connie begins before Armin can answer. He slaps his hands together and quickly rubs his palms like he's starting a fire. "Who's hungry? Chef Connie is on it!"

"_No_," Jean sternly denies from his wooden seat. "You are _not_ cooking again."

"Come on!" Connie argues. "My mom showed me this really good stuffed turkey recipe! I know you'll like it!"

"_No!_ I've hardly recovered from the last time you cooked and I'm pretty sure I _still _have dysentery. Let Sasha handle it."

A sound between a grumble and a growl leaves Connie. Armin's mouth jerks when Connie's excited eyes meet his. "Armin! You want to try it out, right? I promise, it will be the best turkey you've ever tried!"

A strong gurgle rumbles Armin's stomach—he isn't sure if it's a desperate plea to not go through the trauma of eating Connie's food again or from standard hunger pangs.

"No thanks." Armin politely refuses. "I think Sasha has us covered."

"But she doesn't know about my special sauce! I'm telling you, it's the missing ingredient this turkey needs!"

"That sounds _disgusting_." Jean criticizes with the right side of his face crinkling in disgust.

"That's because you're a perverted shit-head whose head is always in the gutter." Eren chimes in with a malicious sneer.

"Who asked you, dickless-wonder?"

"I'll speak whenever I want to you lazy wanna-be!"

Sasha and Armin are the only ones who don't add in to Connie's laughs or Eren and Jean's barrage of insults. Armin sighs while Sasha's gold eyes become alight with proud achievement. "Done!" She backs up from the wooden spit she crafted and quickly starts a roaring fire beneath it. As she slides the turkey through a shaved-down branch she hopes to twist over the fire, a crunch nearby Armin jolts him up from his slouch.

A bag plops onto the ground next to Armin with oyster mushrooms toppling out from the bursting crease. When Armin looks up, Annie bends down to pick up the mushrooms and he spots two rabbits hanging from ropes on each hip.

"Found a few things in the forest to make a stew." Annie summarizes boredly. She crouches down and begins to unpack the rest of her findings. "All of this should help us recoup after the long ride."

Sasha squeals loudly with glee. "Annie, you did a _great job!_ Just look at all this! And those _herbs_." The huntress's hand darts over only for it to stop once Annie's deadpan stare shifts to Sasha.

"Uh...could you share some of those herbs?" Sasha smiles awkwardly at her silent teammate. "It would go great with the turkey!" Annie keeps up her empty stare and Sasha trembles like a rabbit caught in a hawk's gaze. "Uh...um…pretty please can you give me some herbs?"

Annie maintains her stare. She then collects a large handful of green herbs and peppers stuffed deep in her bag and hands them to the waiting cook. Armin didn't think humans can squeal as loud as Sasha did just now and for a brief second, Armin sees Annie flinch when Sasha hugs her. The hunter speeds back to her makeshift rotisserie while Annie takes out a knife to skin the rabbits.

The aromas of mushrooms and rabbit boiling in a stew and turkey roasting is enough for Armin's stomach to growl angrily with his friend's joining in on the chorus. Once the turkey is ready and crisp on the spit, immediate tension builds as drool drips from the side of Sasha's mouth.

"Connie, are you prepared?" Armin hears Jean whisper.

"You know it." Connie responds with rope being tied over his palms. "You aim for her legs and I'll put this between her teeth."

What Armin calls "the dust cloud of mayhem" edges on breaking loose as Sasha enters into a primitive state. Eren's eye twitches in annoyance and rising hunger while Armin readies himself to weasel whatever food isn't being bitten or pulled upon.

As Sasha reaches for the carving knife, Annie snatches it before anyone can make their move.

"Hold out your bowls." Annie instructs with a stern, level tone. "You'll get no more than I give you."

"Chef's privilege!" Sasha declares with carnivorous eyes. "I should get the biggest piece! And I should be _first!"_

Annie pauses. She slowly directs the pointed end of the knife in a way which could be either threatening or simply pointing to Sasha. "I won't repeat what I said."

Sasha's cheeks puff up and blaze red in cartoonish anger and she holds it in for _so long_, Armin fears she'll start turning purple. Armin believes Annie has the threatening presence of Shadis—or dare he say, Mikasa herself—and it's the one force keeping the turkey from not being covered in a layer of Sasha's saliva.

Sasha finally exhales in both a desperate grab for air and frustration. "_Bah!_ Fineeeee!" She exclaims. "Just serve me first then!"

Annie shrugs and to the group's surprise, a large slab of turkey and two ladles full of mushroom-rabbit stew fills Sasha's bowl first. The soup bowl is warm in Armin's grip and as he brings the edge up to his lips, a broth both warm and finely laced with spice slips down his throat. He drinks and eats so quickly that for the first time in forever, his stomach begins to feel satisfyingly filled.

"All of this is _delicious!" _Connie appraises with a hearty sigh. He licks his bowl clean after his fingers are purged of turkey flavor. "Finally, I'm actually _full_."

"Who knew you could do something other than scowl and fight Leonhardt." Jean smirks at the quiet girl. "It wasn't the best but it also wasn't bad."

"S'ok." Eren says through the munching on the last of his food. "But then again, you have stingy taste buds because your mom makes such _good_ food. Nothing beats momma's home-cooking, right Jean-boy?"

"_You shut your damn mouth!" _Jean yells too loudly for comfort.

A sneer anxious for battle splits Eren's face and Armin runs his hands over his tired face as the insult battle starts up again. He strains to ignore the ear-drum splitting shouts between the two and diverts his attention to Annie.

"Did you live near a forest when you were younger?" He asks. "You were gone for a while but came back with so much."

"I spent a lot of time in one." Annie partially answers.

"And you used to hunt in it?"

"Somewhat."

Armin smiles, knowing she's actively avoiding saying more. "Well, everything was delicious." He praises her. "Thank you. I can honestly say this is the first time in a long time where I've had something so good!"

Enigmatic blue stare at Armin. The teenage girl blinks slowly at him and for a few moments, Armin's heart knocks against his ribs, wondering if he's said something wrong. Annie then stands up from her moss-covered log seat.

"Where are you going?"

"Someone needs to keep watch." She answers. "I wouldn't be surprised if a pack of wolves make their way to us because of how loud those idiots are being. I'll take the first watch while you all clean up."

The back of her head faces Armin as she isolates herself again. He watches as she approaches a tree and hops upward off the trunk to dangle from a branch, then pulls herself up in a fluid motion, as if lifting her own body with only her arms was no troublesome feat at all and Armin would _definitely_ disagree. Darkness covers her face and upper torso as she looks on into the depths of the forest and Armin turns his sudden train of thought toward the blazing fire.

He thinks back to Annie and the cool blue hue of her eyes. He doesn't understand why a slightly clammy feeling comes over his palms while so.


	5. Chapter 5

She'd much prefer to get out of this ungodly heat rather than be standing here on the training grounds. The bullheaded teenager furious with the world has his hands on his knees, panting in front of Annie. He gasps in hope it will revitalize him, but he gulps and coughs before desperately sucking in more air.

The corners of Annie's mouth shift smugly. "You're useless if you can't gather your breath." Annie rubs in his failure. "Quit while you're ahead and go get rest."

A sound in-between a refusing grunt and sharp exhale leaves Yeager as Annie scoots hair behind her ear. Her eyes are zeroed in on the determined teenager, waiting—always waiting.

Blazing green rising up to her is Annie's que. Yeager lunges and shoves the wooden knife forward so quickly, all Annie sees is a creeping blur closing in on her stomach. But Annie dodges to the side with ease, zips forward on the balls of her feet and slams her hands on his ears. A scream which tears at the throat rings out so loudly from Yeager, cadets twist their heads around in horror. His howling is replaced by an _oof_ when Annie's sinks her foot into his stomach and knocks him several feet back. Yeager rolls twice until he stops, all the while holding his head—no doubt his brain must feel like it's been clanged hard between hand cymbals.

"You're too much of a hammer." Annie criticizes in a bored tone. She walks over to hover him and rests a hand on her hip, as if to display how terribly disappointed she is. "If you hope to get an edge on someone, you need to be more surgical."

"Whatever the _fuck _that means!" Yeager yells in agony. He groans pitifully and rolls onto his back with his palms firm over his ears. "Shit, shit, _shit! _What did you do to me?!"

She pokes Eren's head with the tip of her boot in reprimand. "Stop being a baby. I didn't hit you hard enough for your ear-drums to rupture. At worst, you'll be disoriented for a couple of days." Annie cups her hands in display to Yeager when angered leaf-green roll to her. "You form your hand this way if you hope to do any damage then hit the middle of your palm directly over their ear. This will stun the other person and leave them open to another attack." Annie watches Yeager in his pain below and exhales sharply. "But that's _after _you're able to get close enough to them, which you are nowhere near yet."

The disgruntled boy growls with his roll over and plants his forehead into the dirt, as if hoping this new position and his hands massaging the sides of his head will help the pain. He trembles in his spot on the gravel-riddled dirt and strains to get up before he tumbles back down.

"Here," A familiar voice says. Eyes under half-curtained lids land on him immediately—the friend who often watches on the sidelines rather than participate. "Take my hand, Eren."

Yeager grumbles into the ground. He bats away Arlert's hand at first but once he rises from shaking arms and trips over his feet, Arlert grabs his friend right as he reaches out for balance. Annie hears weak grousing beneath irate breathing and Arlert shushes Yeager— "She's _right there!_", she hears the boy say— but Annie walks away, unphased by the boy who is upset with her and the others who stare and divert from her path like she's some ominous tidal wave.

It's later in the evening when she sees all of them again. The chatter is loud and lively as it usually is and the pair's Asian friend drills the devil's glare into her the entire time Annie eats. The whole charade of the Ackerman bending forks in threat and her "family" friend yelling at the cocky Kirstein gets boring after a while and as Annie shifts on the bench to leave, the scrawny friend from Yeager's group comes up to her. She's so surprised by his question, Annie blinks a couple times.

"What did you say?" Annie asks. Her smooth tone is almost penetrated by her surprise.

Arlert clears his throat nervously. "Will um...will you train me too?

Annie's walled-off nature almost steers her in looking at the boy oddly before walking away but she narrows her eyes instead. "You're barely a beginner. Now all of a sudden you think you can jump up to advanced?"

"N-Not at all! I just feel like you have a lot of good pointers, even for beginners—_especially _for beginners." A smile—one which is nervous but genuine— hikes up his lips. "I'd like to listen and join in, i-if it's not too much trouble, of course."

Annie blinks long and slow, digesting all he's said. Time is manageable when she gives careful guidance to one doofus; now, she has this deprived kid's attention and routine and maintenance of an image already pries too much of her attention from her main focus. If Reiner and Bertolt weren't too engrossed in the falsehoods they play—would actually _help _her seek out information—, _she_ wouldn't have to pick up their slack.

"I have one weakling to train already." She answers dryly. "Why would I take on someone who's even weaker than him?"

"Because I need to know some kind of basic combat. "Arlert reasons calmly. His face is determined though his face looks sweatier than she remembers it being. "I'm not strong enough to take most people down...but maybe I can buy myself enough time to run away. That move you used on Eren earlier showed me that."

"The answer is no."

"Please, Annie! I promise, I won't get in the way or anything. I'll be quiet and just sit on the sidelines. I can even be your warm-up before Eren!"

"Your friend asks basic questions which are easy to answer. I don't have time to answer your exceedingly long and complicated ones like I _know _you're going to ask me." Annie sits up from her spot on the bench. "My answer is no."

Arlert is anything if not persistent and his deepening frown displays so. "I understand, Annie. But just to let you know, I won't stop asking you. This is important to me."

Annie arches a challenging brow. "Then expect that each time you do ask me, I'll bend and tie you into a wagon wheel and roll you away."

"And each time you do that, I'll untangle myself and come back to ask you again." He declares resolutely.

"Stop wasting my time." Annie replies tartly.

Showing Arlert the hood hanging on her jacketed back ends the conversation and like Annie expected, Arlert follows through on his word.

He asks her to train him again the next day.

She ignores him.

He asks her again during lunch the following day.

He has to nervously babble an explanation to Shadis why there is water spilt around his groin during a surprise roll call.

He asks her again during one of Yeager's lessons.

Annie tactfully shoves her foot into his friend's stomach so hard, he staggers back and topples into his smaller friend before both tumble down to the ground.

And Arlert asks again the next day.

And the next day.

_And the next day._

Through legs being swept from under him, being shoulder tossed away, and being consistently ignored, Arlert comes back each time. Annie's poker face struggles to mask the frustration underneath when she spots a familiar mop of flaxen blond walk toward her again.

Her knuckles crack from her fist clench.

He's _too_ persistent for his own good.

* * *

The unsharpened end of the young girl's pencil taps on the desk—she's bored out of her mind.

Every single lecture Annie hears is either uninteresting or far past its expiration date. Being trapped in time and in obsolete standards of living is tiresome for Annie, especially as the teacher promotes the importance of turning the gas off in the lanterns lest another incident occurs—what she would_ do_ to have electricity again.

As Annie scribbles answers on her test, she notices how more than her fair share of classmates are scratching their heads or shifting in their spots. Heads slant and bodies are tilting to the side, all for the effort in getting a good angle on Arlert's test answers. She isn't surprised; he aces every test and every method Annie proposes in her mind is almost beaten by his, so close in where he's almost always half a step behind her or keeps at the same pace.

After class, the girl whose hunger is never sated and her friend who looks like a walking-lollipop tugs at Arlert's shirt.

"I'm dying here man!" Springer pleads. "It's not my fault I fall asleep in class! The teachers are just so _boring_. You have to teach me!"

"Y-Yes, me too please!" The young hunter backs her friend up. "Although I can't pay you...but I promise I can make you dinner!" Her brown head falls into the dirt, thinking she's whispering to herself when she's really just as loud, "Even though, I may end up eating it..."

It takes all of Annie's will to not roll her eyes into the back of her head. Arlert, however, lets a friendly smile rise.

"I'd be happy to teach you two, but _separately." _He bargains._ "_You two distract each other too much."

Sasha and Connie groan out of impending despair but Annie watches the dynamic duo of dumb oblige Arlert almost every day, each having their own times where he guides them through books in the lounging area of the mess hall or on the lighted porches of the barracks. The frustrated teacher flicks his student's foreheads when he catches them zoning out or displays a disapproving face—which is _unbearably_ boyish—but never is there a day when he misses his lessons with them.

His teachings grow larger in the mess hall as even Arlert's tan friend extends an ear, listening in on what his friend teaches to the others. With each newcomer who joins in, Arlert goes out of his way to be friendly and is generous with his knowledge. He is intelligent—ruthlessly so, she hears some cadets argue. She's never seen him break from his pleasant demeanor and actively avoids making waves. 

He's dangerous, Annie quickly realizes. Frighteningly so.

This thirteen-year-old flies below the radar as he quietly grows in both friendships and knowledge, the other figures around him so powerful or boisterous that a lazy analysis concludes his friends are the only people to worry about—something which Annie sees is further from the truth.

She'll have to watch her step around him.

* * *

Armin has grown used to the loud snoring and questionable smells wafting about in the boy's barracks at night, yet he struggles to fall asleep tonight. His eyelids are sealed shut though his mind is stuck in the dark limbo between fast asleep and awake.

How long has he been sleeping in this rock-hard excuse for a bed now? A full year? No…it has to have been for a little more than that now.

All this time is slipping through his fingers and he doesn't feel like he's growing as fast or as much as he should have by now. Mysteries he hoped he'd find a speck of more answers to while training here remain unanswered and there is no shelf in the library in which he hasn't examined or drawer he hasn't scrounged through. Instead he learns of all of what they don't know about Titans and is instructed how to survive in Titan territory and simple math shows Armin that his chances of living in such a scenario is fairly slim if not non-existent. The rising warmth of daylight soon creeps over his eyelids and the tired boy sighs defeatedly. He's wasted the entire night worrying and, at any moment, Shadis will blare his morning orders through the barracks.

Maybe he's being impatient or frustration is getting to him. Honestly, Armin isn't too sure. All the trying teenager knows is he needs _sleep_ and nothing he learns is stopping this anxiety he wakes up to every day. Fears from his nightmares still linger in the dark, cobwebbed corners of his mind, each question he asks being swallowed in the darkness and left unanswered.

Would he have even joined the military if everything hadn't happened?

Would he truly be able to walk along the many landscapes of the world if he tried hard enough?

...Were the ones who did all which ails him and everyone here still out there?

A pebble bops the top of Armin's head and his eyes shoot open. He rapidly blinks away the sleep in his eyes and his fuzzy morning vision. Dull blue look to the figure idling outside the window of his bed.

"When you want to pass a test, you make sure you pass with flying colors each time, don't you?" The bright silhouette outside his window asks.

"Mnuh?" Armin sleepily garbles. He's confused and after a couple more blinks, unfocused eyes finally register who he sees.

Blond fringes fall to the side with Annie's head tilt. "You don't back down when you want something." She comments with a matter-of-fact tone. "Neither of you do."

Armin stares. He isn't sure what to say or if she is seeking some particular response from him. He only lies in his bed motionlessly, anxiously staying quiet to hear what she has to say.

Annie's eyelids lower a fraction. "If I allow you to join in, the same rules with your loud friend applies to you. You'll wake and work whenever _I _tell you to. Never the other way around."

As if hearing conversation about him was a sixth sense, Eren rises up from his bed next to Armin's, letting loose a yawn so intense, it stirs two cadets close by.

"What's going on here?" Eren inquires sleepily.

Focused pale-blue home into dazed green before switching back to a gaping Armin. "This invitation is a one-time offer." Annie rotates her body back around toward the path to the training yards.

It only takes a second for the signal to jolt Armin and Eren awake. They bolt out of bed and sloppily tug on their boots and uniforms before rushing out the door to follow her.

* * *

_Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_, Annie rationalizes in her head.

Magath told her those words years ago and while she was skeptical a man of war could believe such a risky strategy was possible, the warrior in hiding will let these two boys trailing behind her be her guinea pigs.

She'll learn from them as they learn combat from her—how they work, what's their sensitive points, what do they _know?_

Perhaps their naivety can be put to use or perhaps simply being around them will open a doorway to an answer she's long desired to be found. A crafty part of her mind whispers her willingness to have proteges may even help her chances of landing in the Top Ten, even if she was picky about _who _exactly she works with for the sake of a better teamwork score.

Her head swings around, watching the two cadets. Yeager tries to guide his smaller friend in tips he's learned with her, making it seem like knowing these crucial steps is some prerequisite before daring to go toe to toe with her; it's an arrogant assumption to think he could be a stepping stone to _her_, but his appreciative friend listens eagerly anyway. Eren's haughty sneer as he steps into the dirt-ring could rival a hyena's cunning smile while Arlert watches, his features brimming with beaming eagerness.

Annie has to restrain a smile toward their enthusiasm. How odd it is to her how two fires so different from each other have bonded to each other so strongly. Neither lacks in intensity but their difference in composition twits a firestorm of blue around Arlert while a roaring blaze of red swirls around Eren.

A slight tingle dances down her spine.

She wonders if its from fear or excitement.

* * *

**A/N: The "And the next day" repetition reminds me so much of SpongeBob LOL. Damn it the line has been tainted for me.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Mail call!" A gruff voice bellows throughout the camp grounds. "Hurry up or the spare bibs and diapers your mother sent you get tossed!"

People sprint ahead from the command and add to the shoving and pushing growing on every end of the amassing crowd. There's a myriad of vibes Annie senses from these children's body language: some appear anxious or unsure while others radiate excitement in seeing what lies beyond a sealed envelope or package. The observant girl takes note of how the trio she monitors closely does not launch themselves into the excited crowd but rather walks away; to Annie, their faces are wrinkled with desire, _wishing _they could also dive for tangible evidence of love beyond this encampment.

Near Annie's left ear, the ponytailed girl who has taken a fancy to her blond friend—a girl who is somehow shorter than _Annie_— loudly condemns Mina for being so stupid in letting her mother order her dressing habits and mannerisms through a piece of crimped paper. Annie almost sneers when she spots Kirstein move like he's scratching his armpit only to then cautiously weasel a parcel from his mother under his jacket so no one can see—he's so laughably a momma's boy that it's painful.

"Finally, it's_ here_!" The shaved-head midget announces loudly. He squats with bowed legs as he triumphantly holds his package high over his head. "Actual _fooodddd_!"

"You better share, Springer!" A voice in the distance orders. "You rant about your ma's cooking but I bet it's no better than a rat skewer from the slums!"

"Yeah!" Kirstein backs up the voice. "You always rave about your mom's cooking. Now cough up the proof!"

"Never!" Springer refuses with blazing eyes. "Keep your mangey hands away from my spoils! I worked my ass off for this!"

"So have we! Now hand it over!"

Springer bolts away so quick, a dust cloud is lifted up in his wake right as a stampede of cadets race after him. All want a piece of the food the short fool always raves about and Annie's lukewarm surprise only shows through two blinks. Rather than watch Springer get dogpiled and have his parcel ripped away by a laughing Kirstein—only for his own package from his mother to fall out from his jacket—Annie is more interested in how the notorious food burglar is the only one not chasing after mouthwatering goodies. Blouse swipes a letter from the soldier's hand after her name is called and excitement shimmers the gold in her hazel eyes until sadness quickly creeps in.

"Darn it…" The brunette grumbles to herself. Annie looks down and sees the red print of "Return to Sender" rubber stamped on the front. "The letter was returned again…" A deep, heavy sigh blows out from her. "I guess dad moved again."

"Or he deliberately sent it back." Annie coldly concludes.

Blouse noticeably stiffens from her remark.

"Annie…" The pig-tailed teenager exhales from nearby. "That wasn't very nice."

"My intent wasn't to be nice. I'm only saying it's possible he sent the letter back."

"I-It's ok, Mina." Blouse turns around and offers a smile, one which is painfully fake and strained. "Father is tough on me sometimes but it's because he cares and wants the best for me. He's always moving around since horse raising is high in demand throughout the kingdom. I can just never remember which village he's in since I see and talk to him so little now…"

Annie is good at letting her deadpan stare regard someone like they're some absurdly shaped caricature who fell out of a painting. The huntress eeps a little at Annie's doubt and diverts her gaze to the pebble-crusted ground.

"Father is tough but he isn't _cruel_. That's just not him. He's taught me so much and I want to do him proud." Blouse grips the letter tighter, her cheeks blossoming with embarrassed red. "Although...uh...I'm going to have to remember what his address is before I can start telling him how I'm doing…"

"Let's just look at one of his past letters." Mina suggests with a grin. "Maybe he mentioned where he is or where he's going there. Did you store them somewhere?"

"They're in my trunk...but um..." The taller girl sheepishly scratches the side of her cheek. "I kind of got some leftover stains on most of my stuff. Do you think it will come out of the paper if we clean it?"

"... Let's just focus on finding the letters first. _Then_ we'll cross that bridge."

Annie's gaze follows the girl's backs until they pass through the doors of the barracks. She wonders if Blouse's desire to inspire pride in her father is born out of true desire or stems from some unconscious sense of duty. From conversations she overheard, Mr. Blouse seems to be more benevolent and caring than Annie's own father, though by seeing how much the simple notion of disappointing him inspires so much fear in his daughter, Annie wonders if Mr. Blouse has voiced more than just his discontent with his only child's choices.

Annie stands in place until Shadis barks the order for everyone to gather at the farthest end of the training yards.

As she walks alongside the crowd with a faraway look, Annie wonders how Father is doing the entire time.

* * *

"They really did a number on you, didn't they…?" The freckled boy worriedly inquires to his friend sitting next to him.

"Hey, I told him I was _sorry!" _Yeager defends. "Armin, remember: if you just side-step, you can dodge punches easily! You won't get hit next time if you do that!"

"Or maybe you were tossed _again_ by Annie and you falling on Armin scored him that blackeye." Kirstein smirks smugly from nearby. Brown eyes combat with the blazing green which shoot at him. "Ooo, a_ scowl_. That'll scare off the Titans for sure."

"Listen here you retard cousin of a donkey." Kirstein's rival spits venomously. "I can beat you any time anywhere and— "

The Asian girl shoves a spoonful of rice into Yeager's mouth. He gags, those at the table and Annie guessing the spoon went deep enough to poke the back of his throat as he chokes and strains to push away Ackerman's powerful arm. The table stares at the alabaster skinned beauty as she casually continues eating her meal while her friend finally fishes out the spoon and gasps for air.

"_Anyway_." The blackish-blue bruise under Arlert's eye wrinkles with his smile. "I'm fine, really. Little things like this are worth it if it means I learn something."

Bott tilts his head curiously. "Is that why you joined the military, Armin? To learn strategy?"

The bright-eyed boy loses a bit of lively blue and scrunches around a face hesitant to divulge such a personal burden. But unlike Annie, Arlert doesn't hide his reasons.

"In a way, yes." He responds wistfully. "The idea sank in more after the royal command of retaking Wall Maria with soldiers and refugees. After they came back and said everyone including my grandfather was gone...I felt I needed to be a part of something. And maybe by joining the military, I might be able to stop something like that from happening again."

Dismay fidgets the black-haired cadet who voiced his eagerness to serve the king. The smaller boy offers a comforting smile. "Not all the Brigade members were on board with the operation, Marco. If you go into the Military Police, I'll hold nothing against you." Arlert's warm smile expands. "You're a good leader and I bet you'll be a welcome addition to the King's ranks."

Flattered crimson shines on the bed of freckles peppering Bott's cheeks. "I'll certainly do all I can to be. I just...I was unaware of how horrible some of the monarch's decisions were."

Arlert's gaze wanders to the side then to the ground, looking a little regretful. "I'm sorry. By mentioning this you must think I'm trying to indirectly insult you."

"N-Not at all!" Bott rebukes with a frantic shaking of his hands. "That just means a lot coming from you. You're quite a good judge of character."

Armin glances at his freckled friend like he's the oddest creature he's ever come across. "_You're _telling _me _that I'm a good judge of character?" He asks incredulously.

The raise of brow and straightened posture Bott makes could resemble one of a scolding mother. "I see that I've got my work cut out for me on both you and Jean."

"Huh?"

A pint of water slams on the wood panel table. "Enough with the depressing shit!" Kirstein orders loudly. "It's time to unwind and eat lunch not wallow in self-pity!"

"Yeah!" Springer follows up after his tallest friend. "Armin, what you should _really _be concerned about is refreshing me on today's foraging lecture. I err...I ate weird leaves last time and I'd rather not make the same mistake…"

Springer breaks out an ink pen and paper, trying to convince the disbelieving Arlert that he's going to write on a "review sheet" rather than sneak the answers onto his hands for the test.

Annie hears the racket from Arlert's table rise from her not-so-far place amongst the dining tables. She's strongly uncomfortable after realizing someone from this pitiful place could share such an understanding.

Class injustice, internment camps, and a reigning force ruling its subjects with a cruel, iron fist. Arlert has suffered from it much like she's suffered and their relatives endured a lifetime under these regimes they all had no say in being born into. Like the Eldians are used for Mindless Titan warfare stock, the Walldians sacrificed their own for what the military and a monarchy preaches was for a "greater good".

Frost-like blue swivel to her side. Annie logs the flash of self-loathing and frustration flowing in eyes as blue as the rivers of her home's forest; she sees a bitterness housed in Arlert from being robbed of remaining time with someone he unjustly lost. It's _too_ familiar.

Annie's hands shake beneath the table and the tremors must be branching into her elbows as her pig-tailed bunkmate sees and steadily raises a brow. Annie rises from the table then twists her body towards the door. A loud call for her rings out from Mina, asking where Annie is leaving to.

_Separation is key_, Annie's mental voice says.

If ears weren't tools for eavesdropping, Annie would gladly wound her eardrums enough to deafen herself for a day and heal back the damage later. She doesn't like hearing about these people's pasts, seethes in hearing how the poison well of vicious ideology has contaminated even this isolated island; maybe there truly _was_ no hope for the redemption of their race after all.

Annie inhales deep, holding the air in her lungs for a long second until she finally lets her breath go in a quick whuff.

These people have been on her mind too much and Arlert is discomfortingly present in nearly each one of her problems.

She needs a distraction.

Annie mulls over how she will find such a thing as her leather boots crunch through the hardened dirt of the campgrounds.

* * *

That night, Annie dreams.

Often times her imagination produces only a six-hour blanket of white or red-streaked memories of the years when her Female Titan helped Marley keep their status above the world.

But not tonight.

This time, she dreams of all of them—of _him_.

Her mind conjures a world where she can talk to her fellow cadets at breaktime, to be unfiltered and unafraid as she speaks and the boy who can educate everyone listens and answers. She can indulge in their smiles when someone says something funny; she can _want _to smile. There are no barriers or worries here. Only a ghost of a smile was what Annie allowed the world to see, but as Arlert laughs and his friends feed the commotion, her side-lip curl slowly expands wider and wider until all her teeth show and everyone lifts their cups in some unknown celebration.

Annie bolts up from sleeping on her side. She breathes shakily as her eyes affirm she is back in the dark night that is her current reality. A curtain of messy bangs moves left to right over her eyes from her head-shake before her hands rub her temples.

There are so many pressing desires spinning about in her head, all of which have consumed her daily thoughts and musings before bed. Why was it out of all the things her mind chooses to dream of...why was it_ that_?

Annie stays up for hours trying to think of an answer.

**Let me know if its easy to follow along who exactly Annie is referencing. I feel like I am being clear but I'm sure there are some parts which might be confusing.**

**I hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I love writing this :DD I feel like the Snk community is a bit quiet lately but maybe its because I'm on and off on here and other accounts lol.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow this chapter is long LOL. But I finally finished it ;-; Enjoy!**

**Thank you all for sticking with me through these long gaps for updates! Work and school consume much of my time so I have few windows to work on this. Enjoy :) **

* * *

Armin sees the rain as a form of cleanse. Through lazy days and trying times the wet pattering against his skin is relaxing, even acts as a lullaby when it rapped against his window on more melancholic days.

Today, the rain pours down with brutal force.

A remorseless gush beats down so hard on Armin, he swears indents have drilled themselves into his cloaked back and scalp. Everyone's boots schlup and slip so much in the pulpy mud, balance becomes a conscious effort to keep. Armin pants non-stop, his legs wobbling from fatigue as he trudges up the forest-riddled incline. He winces as every inch of his inflamed muscles screams at him to _stop, _to give _up _already and his desperation to rest makes him cave. His soles sink halfway in the mud as he stops and hunches over, panting heavily to catch his breath.

His endurance is no good in these scouting missions—everyone is too kind to tell that fact to his face but he _knows_ it's true. And yet—as if to rub his physical inferiority into Armin's face further— Shadis sticks him with some of the top rising stars in his regiment. Armin trembles in his spot beneath the rain while his comrades move past him. His jaw steels with frustration and his hands ball into tight fists atop his knees. What many have whispered for the past two years rattles around in his head—he _is_ useless outside the classroom.

_The rain is both a fading memory and a distant promise, sweet boy_. A melodic voice resonates in his head. _Just like all your worries._ Armin's eyelids flutter when a phantom hand from his memory runs through his hair. _The storm will fade soon and so will your troubles. Just relax and breathe._

A piece of Armin's memory dies with every passing year but Mother's voice rings so vividly in his head, even after all these years. The only image he remembers of her is a fuzzy face with a ponytail of his hair color but their attachment is powerful enough for him to rehearse a habit they built together. Armin pushes his shoulders back in a deep exhale as he rises up from knees and repeats breathing in and out. Slow and steady.

They've almost reached the mountain's peak. Just a couple more hours and they'll have reached their objective.

He has to keep going.

He _can_ keep going.

At Armin's side, Connie's foot slips out to his left and with a loud cry of alarm, he slaps into the brown ooze down below.

"_Yuck_." Jean partially sticks out his tongue with his grimace. "Don't count on me to pick you up."

Connie groans tiredly. The young cadet rocks his body side to side, steadily gathering the right momentum. He throws his body onto his right side and plants his hands in the mud, but the slimy earth slides Connie's hands out and he faceplants into the dirt.

"Mud is Mother Nature's brownie batter, right Reiner?" Jean smirks sarcastically. "Connie is first to taste test!"

Reiner grunts in time with Connie flopping back onto his back, spitting out the muck in his mouth and wiping his face the whole time.

Jean's over dramatic pout rivals a bad street actor's attempt at disgust. "_Damn_. And I was hoping Momma N's brownies and mud pies were good."

"_Fuck off_." Connie growls. "First it rains, then my clothes get wet and dirty, and _now_ I'm sure I'm going to get a damn cold." Connie's voice becomes low and gravely as he mimics Shadis, "Only three of you will have your gear but you'll be limited on gas. It'll make you strategize better. Oh, by the way, I'm not going to tell you that you have to _walk at an incline the whole way!" _

"I give you a D for your acting job." Reiner comments with an entertained sneer. "Not bad for street-performing but I wouldn't recommend being a professional."

"That's it. I'm lying here until I become one with nature."

"Mother Nature is a merciless bitch." Jean responds coolly. "She'll spit you out for not being good enough to become one with."

"Well she's going to have to deal with it or spit my ass into the sky because I can't get _up_!"

Reiner—whose body bursts with pure, brutish strength—pulls Connie up by his cloak so quick, he yelps. The strong soldier-to-be holds onto Connie's shoulders until his friend finds his balance. Armin always finds himself looking up to the strongest male in this group—whether it was through his height or admiring his consistent willingness to come to a comrade's aid. Reiner smiles encouragingly once Connie finds his balance and lands a slap so hard on his friend's back, Connie jerks and almost loses his footing again.

"There, you're all good now." Reiner motivates with a side-grin. He jabs a thumb toward Jean. "And remember, don't listen to Scarecrow here. He just likes to stand uselessly and criticize like an old bag."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Jean yells.

Reiner flicks bits of mud from his hand into Jean's face and he sputters and spits out the grime which flew its way into his mouth. "You did. I'm just not listening."

Armin, Annie, and Bertolt all remain silent. They all start walking again with Reiner leading the pack and Bertolt keeping close by him but Annie stays in the back near Connie and Armin. She doesn't interact with him—hardly has done so with anybody on this mission—and Armin is sure she avoids the chance of him simply saying "hello" by keeping her hoodie so far over her face, he can only see the tip of her nose.

She's been muter lately and Armin has had the gloom cloud over his own head enough times to know when sadness hovers over someone else. His stomach remembers the stabbing sting of Annie socking him in the gut for prodding too much into her well-being— "_You were off your guard", _she bypassed_—,_ using her teacher status to avoid his question. He'll take the risk of pain again when his lips part.

"Up here!" Reiner points out before he can speak. "There's shelter up ahead!"

Armin puts a hand against his forehead to halt the streams of water falling in front of his vision.

The shelter is a farmhouse, one which has been flayed of most of its roof tiles and has an appearance so dilapidated, Armin assumes it's been abandoned for some time. Wind and rain rattle the windows and upset loose planks on the porch, but to Armin and his group, this place is the only sorry excuse for shelter they will get for the next few miles.

"We'll rest here for a few hours." Reiner instructs as they approach the house. "We'll only strain ourselves if we keep going in this weather."

All the cadets pick up their pace in excitement to finally have a _break_. Wood boards creak and groan as wet boots clop into the house and the closing of the front door cuts off the streams of brisk air. Belt loops loosen and metal clanks on the floor as maneuver gear falls from aching hips. Armin stretches while others look about the house and the loud exhale Armin whuffs out sounds so relieved, Connie snickers how he sounds like he just took a blissful piss. He's not so bothered because honestly that's _does _sound relieving, especially if he gets to use an actual bathroom and not the woods.

As the group enters the living room, rain beats against cracked windows and there's a terrible draft seeping through the spacious first floor but the rest of the house looks to be sturdy. Armin sees a barn through one of the broken windows and a cage of wood-rotted fencing where cattle once roamed—the animal shortage must have run this farm out of business.

"Holy hell a _couch!" _Connie notices from across the room. He zips over to the mangy, green couch, his face bright with elation. "I call dibs!"

"There's a perfectly good bed in the other room." Jean says. "How about you take that and I take the couch?"

"_No. Way._ The mattress looks and smells like it's been shit on. _You _can have it though."

"I'm the squad leader." Reiner reminds them both, his chest puffed out for commanding effect and fists resting on his hips. "If anything, I should get the couch."

There's a pause.

"I'll roshambo you for it." Connie pitches with a fist held in front of him.

"How about we just arm wrestle?" Reiner offers.

"You'll beat both of us!" Jean complains. "Roshambo or nothing!"

Armin catches Annie rolling her eyes while Bertolt watches the others debate who gets the couch with feigned interest. She unties her wet, bunched hair as she transitions into the kitchen and Armin's curiosity spurs him to put the first step forward. Bertolt cuts him off and approaches the smaller girl before Armin can take two steps. They are longtime friends, even though Annie seems so distant from him and Reiner. Then again, her way of showing appreciation or recognizing someone is a bit…frosty, but she spreads the treatment over everybody. He isn't sure if the wetness on Bertolt's face is from sweat or the rain when he opens his mouth then catches Armin's sight. The shorter boy smiles awkwardly. He shows his back to the two and decides to roam about the house—they must want some privacy.

Cobwebs line every corner from ceiling to floor and dust buildup thickens the glass covering on hanged family portraits. Every picture is a generic pose with the same black-ink pen, showing how the family of five had grown over the years. They're nice but Armin's interest fades after a few glances. He gets ready to venture elsewhere until color dances at the edge of his eye.

A painting of a lush hilltop surrounded by flowers of many colors hangs strong and vibrant at the start of the hallway. Armin marvels at the sight. Throughout the stretch of hallway he walks through, this painter fashioned snowy mountains, sunny meadows, and lush prairies in such breathtaking detail, the side-curl on Armin's mouth extends into a wide smile. The aspiring traveler follows the trail of painted nature until he reaches a staircase. Two steps up takes him to a house with a water wheel settled beside a sparkling river, a few more steps is a portrait of children running through corn fields, the last is a pond with a full moon's pearly surface tattooing the pond's middle.

His travels then come to an abrupt halt. His eyes narrow into confused slits.

All of the doors on the second story are closed save for one room. When he peers inside, the mattress once on the bed rests on the floor. The top of the twin-sized bed has planks of wood over it and supports a cup of half-filled water and a grimy plate littered with cigarette butts. His nose wrinkles from suspicion and suddenly these closed doors feel more ominous.

Armin flees back downstairs and his approach towards Bertolt and Annie stops their conversation.

"I'm probably overreacting but…" Armin shifts a nervous glance to the upper level. "Can you come upstairs with me for a sec? I'm just...I'm getting a bad feeling."

Annie tilts her head. "You're not having us check for monsters under your bed, are you?"

A displeased lip twitch shows Armin doesn't appreciate her mocking. "I know, most likely I'm overreacting. I just want to make sure I am. It'll be quick."

Annie exhales in disinterest and Bertolt gives an awkward nod and smile before they both don their gear once more. The trio fighting for their couch rights complain for rematches in the background as Armin and his group hike up the stairs. The shing noise of swords unsheathing sends goosebumps running over Armin's skin. Armin grips the handle of the sword Bertolt offered to him with both hands but the added strength doesn't help—he can't stop _shaking._

Annie takes the door handle next to the open room and counts to three with her fingers. Upon three's arrival, she throws open the door and everyone keeps their swords at the ready.

Shelves and a floor full of toys and a wooden horse at the far end of the room welcome the group to the dusty play room. Annie's head swivels around, slowly arching a scathing eyebrow Armin.

"Ok ok! So, I was being a bit skittish. But there are still two more doors!"

Annie sighs and Bertolt pats Armin's back to console him but he only makes the boy feel ten-times worse. The petite blond takes the handle of the next door and swings it open.

A room bursting with stuffed animals and a pink canopy bed greets their vision.

"I'm _not _sleeping here." Annie relays curtly. She turns around to Armin, a presumptuous glint in her eyes. "Do you know someone who would volunteer, Armin?"

"Uh..." The blond male looks up at his black-haired comrade and points. "Bertolt?"

"H-Hey! I'm on your side here!" The tall cadet protests. He grouses in a quieter voice, "And even if I _wanted_ to, the beds here are too small for me anyway..."

Annie—her body and fists tight from being visibly tired of this charade—stomps over to the other door with the boys quickly following after her and yanks open the last door. This time, she doesn't move.

"Whoa." Is Bertolt's first word and Armin's thought.

In the master bedroom, the platform bedframe is all that's left of the queen-sized bed and columns of rectangular, crinkly packages rest atop the entirety of the space. Armin approaches a rickety table in the middle of the room and inspects the small dunes of white powder poured over its surface. A mechanism built from glass and iron rests at the far end and has more packages next to it—no doubt this is some refinement station for drugs.

"This has to be gang-related." Armin confidently proposes. On the other end of the room, an array of guns and hunting knives are lined along the room's border, waiting to be used.

"Most likely." Annie picks up a package from the bed and fishes out a small bag. She shakes a couple white pills into her palm and eyeballs it closely. "This place is quiet and surrounded by forest. It's too perfect to resist using it as a manufacturing plant."

"Ha! I win!" Connie declares so loudly and triumphantly, both Armin and Bertolt leap in their spots. "Now, suck up the loss and help me move this damn thing!"

Armin frowns at the doorway because Connie isn't close by to see him. He clears his throat to gather his composure.

"It looks like this room has been used recently too." Bertolt observes nervously. "To have this many guns and drugs in one place…there's no way they would leave this alone for too long."

The other two nod stiffly in agreement. Armin exits the master bedroom and compares each room's state to each other, checking if there are other disturbances they need to be aware of and he finds only the drug room and the mystery tenant's quarters showing footsteps in the sheet of dust coating the floorboards.

"We need to tell the others about this." Armin determines. "I'm not eager to see how these people will react to military trainees finding their headquarters." He grabs one of the packages as proof of what they've found before they ready themselves to leave.

"Uh, guys…?" Connie calls out. The hairs on Armin's neck stand up from how shaky his friend's voice has become. "I think you need to come down here."

Their conversation looms over Armin like warm breath on the nape of his neck and they all dash down the stairs. Connie locks eyes with Armin as runs through the hallway. "Is...is that what I think it is?"

Armin's brows furrow as he follows where Connie points.

A large brownish-red stain coats the wood boards where the sofa once sat. The sight is startling enough to send Jean and Connie back two steps while Bertolt and Annie stare in surprise. The pointed end of Reiner's boot digs under and flips over the edge of the rug beneath the coffee table, exposing a stain of the same color hiding in front of the sofa. When Reiner moves everything in the living room, what looks like dried blood covers most of the wooden floor.

Dumbfounded and aghast, panic clamps over Armin's heart. Reiner—all in his firm and strong presence—keeps his face composed though Armin detects the slight tremble in his hands as he crouches and probes for loose floorboards. One wood board creaks loudly and a knock of his knuckles against the wood signals the hollow underside. Armin's heart slams against his ribs as Reiner digs his hands into the board's creases and yanks the splintery wood up.

Reiner's face turns hard as stone. Clouded hazel quiver in his sockets and his strong chest is visibly tight.

"Reiner." Armin whispers shakily. His lips dart over his dry lips, needing another breath when he says, "Show us."

His eyelids close mournfully. Reiner removes two more floor boards before leaning forward, picking up something which freezes over Armin's blood.

Cradled between Reiner's hands is a skull the size of a cantaloupe—a size which resembles that of a small child's. The invisible hand of panic squeezes Armin's lungs as Reiner keeps bending down, adding more and more dirt-crusted bones next to the small skull until there are two, three, _four_.

Armin wrenches his eyes shut and rips his sight away. He can't look anymore. He scarcely hears through the blood pumping in his ears how the body count totals to five with someone retching as a follow-up response. Armin inhales a breath so shaky, air snags and rolls over itself in his throat. He has to calm down. The burning bubbling behind his eyes warns how he _has _to calm down.

He turns his body toward the living room window. He tries to focus on the lullaby of the rain again, on his breathing, _anything_ to get his mind off the bodies and blood buried beneath their feet. The now light pattering of rain drums a chorus so soft against the wood and glass, the coiling around Armin's chest allows itself to loosen slightly. Slowly, his breathing settles down. He opts to opens his eyes again and when murky blue exposes themselves to sight, Armin's breathing stops entirely.

Caught in the young cadet's sights is a man—one no older than 20–stopped cold in his tracks outside. Brown, wide eyes stare into startled blue through the cracked living room window and the standoff stops the world from spinning for 2 long seconds.

The man quickly spins on his heel and sprints back from whence he came but not before Armin can shout. "_There_!"

Everyone stares dumbfoundedly at the window and those who don't have their gear curse in frustration as the man re-enters the forest. Armin's breath catches when Annie sprints through the living room and with a swift, leaping kick, glass explodes around her body as the window breaks open.

"Annie!" Armin and Bertolt call to her. Her maneuver gear's anchors eject ahead of her and blasts her body forward until she is swallowed whole by the forest. "Wait!"

* * *

Branches and leaves whip Annie's face, but the sting is nothing she can't steam away quickly. The sound of a horse clopping away at full speed is all Annie is focused on. She's never been more thankful than in this moment to be small enough to easily maneuver through the tight lanes of bushy branches and leap off trunks from more awkward swings. A tan face drenched with both rain and sweat shoots to the side when she draws closer, glaring daggers into Annie. The man pushes himself up on the saddle's stirrups and just as he nocks an arrow, pulls back at lightning speed and fires.

A thread of blood flies off from Annie's cheek from where the arrowhead grazed her cheek. A blast of steam twirls her body around, dodging one more arrow whizzing past her torso and another through her legs as she swings away. Pink lips pull down into an embittered snarl; she can't risk getting her clothes or body damaged _damn it_. An eject of hooks forward pull Annie up and behind a thick tree trunk just before two arrows thunk into the wood.

She hops from one sturdy branch to another, arrows thudding into wood around and behind her and for the most fleeting of seconds, keeps hidden beneath the tree's mast, allowing the man precious seconds to keeping storming ahead. Thick, green bushes all around the trained warrior hide her body and her intent.

Her hooks reach up higher into the forest's canopy, keeping her only a blur above the leaves until she finds the sweet situation she craves. The man exclaims in fury beneath her, his hand floundering in the saddle's empty bags for more arrows and in that moment, the hooks on each of Annie's hips reach out to the branch awning the man approaches. Annie is throttled forward and bursts through the forest's green ceiling, strands of pale yellow on the sides of her face, her teeth grit in focus.

The man twists his head backward as she flies at him, his brown eyes blown wide.

Her foot slams into the back the man's neck and a sickening snap rings out from her heel.

The man flies forward and rolls along the ground until he stops and flops on his side. The horse sprints on, soon vanishing from sight entirely when Annie descends onto the slippery floor with her gear. The man doesn't move and the brown eyes who bore hatred into Annie's have life's light snatched out of them.

Annie stands as motionless as the man lays. She's killed again and this time, the thought doesn't bring forth the need to vomit as it had done all those years ago.

She feels nothing.

"Annie!" Annie's chin flies up when Bertolt and Reiner swing over to her. Annie isn't surprised they are the first to catch up with her.

"Are you alright?" Bertolt asks worriedly as he runs up to her. "What happened?"

" 'm fine." She answers dryly. Her side-glance toward her fellow Warriors radiates unyielding remorselessness. "He was going to get away, so I had no choice."

The sadness shaking Bertolt's dark eyes irritates Annie so much, she wants to kick the weakness out of him—he should have accepted by now that this is the action their lifestyles demand of them. "Did we really have to kill him? Couldn't we have just captured him?"

"The other options were immobilize him and have to carry his useless self until we got back to base or use my swords." She rationalizes curtly. "Imagine how the team would freak out if I easily took a life. This was the easiest way."

The concern on Bertolt's face melts away. "Ah, I see." He shares with her one of his nervous, twitchy smiles, but Annie shifts her attention elsewhere. "Leave it to you to always think ahead."

Reiner nods sternly in agreement. "You'll get no condemnation from me. But to be safe, we'll keep the specifics from the others."

"His neck broke when he fell off his horse." Annie pitches. "It's an easy story."

The other two appear to concur. Angry, hazel eyes fall onto the body sprawled out on the floor. "What a horrid creature. How many other families has he wounded through not just his violence but his drugs too?" He shakes his head, genuinely disgusted. "Despicable crime, even for a Devil."

Annie scowls at the floor. Her comrade is quick to accuse and could hang the sword of treachery over her head should she step out of line in Reiner's indoctrinated mind. She keeps her tongue locked down this time.

"Don't be so open with that, especially with the others closing in." She shoots a death glare to her comrades out of impatience. "Now let's hurry up and get our stories straight."

* * *

Armin is downcast the entire time Annie explains how the man fell off his horse and broke his neck during her pursuit. He's even more grieved as Jean and Reiner lay out the bones of the deceased side by side in the garden behind the dilapidated house. Two adults and their three children were caught in the middle of a drug trader's growing territory. Each of the party members takes a shovel and work well into the late evening to give these forgotten people a proper burial. Once the bodies are beneath the earth and their respects to the dead are given, all the group leaves behind is the murderer rotting beneath the downpour.

They flee into the barn across the field to escape from the ghosts in the house. A few hours of recovery is all Reiner allows and after everyone has gone to bed—once the fact of victims being laid to rest outside their hiding place is somehow pushed to the farthest parts of their minds and sleep quiets everybody—Armin carefully gets up. He puts on his cloak and enters the calm, rainless night.

Armin has to walk a little ways but he inevitably finds the drug dealer's body and when he inspects the man's clothes for anything significant, all he finds are hunting materials. He then drags the deceased by the ankles toward the fencing where cattle had grazed and grabs a shovel. He struggles to dig through sopping mud and his hands keep slipping on the wooden handle but he keeps trying. This is probably the stupidest idea he's ever had and he's only increasing the chance of getting a cold or alerting wildlife, but he keeps pushing through the ache in his arms and legs.

"What are you doing?"

Armin's foot slips and trips onto his knees. The part of his eyes not covered by his hood spots Annie standing above him, wearing her hoodie and staring down at him. He gulps, feeling like some insignificant flee under her scrutinizing gaze.

"Digging." The boy answers weakly. He picks himself back up and starts shoveling again.

"If it's his stash you're looking for, I wouldn't hold your breath. You'll be digging forever."

"I'm not interested in_ that_." Armin hears himself hiss.

"Then why are you wasting your time out here?"

"Because…" Armin gulps hard. "I just felt like I had to."

Annie scoffs before she crosses her arms.

"He doesn't deserve to be buried like the others." She points out seriously. The maliciousness in her tone sets him on edge.

Armin's shovel stops in the mud.

"Maybe…" Armin starts.

"What do you mean _maybe?" _Annie derides his answer. "I thought the dead family showed he was ill intentioned but just for recent events, he also shot at me."

"I never said he wasn't!" He hurriedly defends. "What I was _starting _to say is maybe he doesn't deserve to be buried, yes! But…" The anxious soldier's breathing becomes strained again. "But who's to say he did this to that family in the first place? Where's the proof?"

Deep grooves form between pale-blond brows. "He _ran, _Arlert. That's more than enough to prove he's guilty."

"Is it? There were drugs and illegal weaponry in the house. Who's to say he didn't run because he was afraid of being caught? And those bodies...they looked to have been decaying for some time. Maybe someone else did the crime?"

Annie snorts in disbelief. "That's a stretch."

"What if it isn't?"

Annie tilts her hip, her tight body language voicing she's not convinced. "Ok, I'll humor you. Say that is the case. He _didn't_ kill that family. How are you then certain he wasn't an accomplice? He could have stood watch or known about there being bodies beneath the house but did nothing about it. The operation in that house is clearly gang-related and that signs him up for the guilt from all of the other people he and his cronies hurt. I doubt anyone in the drug trade doesn't attempt or at least threaten murder, especially with the contraband he was hiding." Annie's chin tilts up, radiating with the threat for him to challenge her. "He still sounds guilty."

He understands her point, even agrees all of what she said is the most likely scenario.

And still Armin doesn't know _why_ he remains so conflicted. The man was hardly older than all of them and the young boy's time of living as a street rat showed him how desperation sours both a person and their decisions. Armin tries two times to swallow past the blockage in his throat until finally, nervous eyes steel and rise. Annie's eyes are almost transparent and her frown shows she's impatiently waiting for an answer.

"You're right—he doesn't deserve to be buried." Armin agrees with a slight tremble to his voice. "That's why his grave will be unmarked. No one will know where he is and no one will know where to find him—he's gone like the world needs him to be…and yet," Armin mulls over how to word this odd entanglement of feelings knotting his chest and plugging his throat. "Someone may have loved him like this family loved each other once. Maybe there's people out there with fond memories of who he was before…and maybe for that reason alone, he at least deserves to be put into the ground. That way, nature can take away the bad parts and find the good from what he once was." Armin stares pensively at the mud-caked end of his shovel. "Maybe that's the only thing the worst of us can do in the end: bring some life into the world with the body we leave behind."

He believes he's made a half-assed argument at _most_ and tries to ignore the fact that Annie can quip he just needs to leave the body out and the job is already done. He must sound as crazy as some whacko spouting the apocalypse is nigh from his soap box. Armin's addled mind churns with potential comebacks and snide remarks she can so easily make and Annie's silence is _not_ helping his nervousness.

The darkness shadows most of Annie's face save for the light blue disks which pierce through the depths of night. They seem permanently filled with doubt but glow in such a hauntingly, hypnotizing way, Armin can't look away.

"Your philosophy is strange, Arlert." Annie finally says after a long silence.

The nervous cadet is unsure what to say, especially after she continues to say nothing. "Um...thanks, I guess?"

_That _makes Annie scoff. Armin then so much as blinks and the splintery shaft of the broom is ripped from his hands.

"If you're going to do one thing wrong, you might as well do the other right." Annie says. "Get another shovel and help me."

Armin's smile is small but beams with appreciation. They work together to push the loose mud to the sides and form a small trench. Once the trench reaches a comfortable depth, they slide the body into the pocket of earth and pile muddy slop onto the corpse. A hunter's eye might tell the ground here has been tampered with so Armin throws bush leaves and twigs about the area, hoping it's enough to veer someone off the scent. He dusts his hands off on his pants before looking toward Annie.

"I meant what I said." Armin says right as Annie looks at him. A warm smile standing bright and ear to ear adorns his lips. "Thanks. For helping me and listening."

Like he expected, Annie doesn't react but rather nods before turning away from him. "We should get back. We're leaving soon and I'm dirty after helping you with your moral charity work."

* * *

Sun peeking through the morning clouds descends like a spotlight onto the group. The mountain-side's trail is a persistent incline and per the map Arlert examines, the climb will continue on for another couple of miles. The lack of trees keeps the sun's dull warmth on them and it's a welcome shift from walking in damp clothes and constantly shifting ground. The flag the group needs to retrieve to prove their mission successful draws closer and closer and the fact spurs everyone to walk with a bit more upbeat attitude. Everyone doesn't speak of or has chosen to forget what happened yesterday and the group carries on as they would on any other day. Unlike them, yesterday continues to gnaw at Annie's mind. Her focus stays fixed on the back of who walks in front of her.

Annie is and remains to be puzzled by this boy.

He's voiced so many hardships in conversations she's overhead, has seen his eyes hold the contempt and bitterness she expects to see from someone so traumatized, but he never acts on the negativity she knows simmers in him. His eyes remain open doors in the face of turmoil in contrast to Annie's closed off ones. His openness can be annoying and often times exposes his obvious lack of self-worth, but he's brave enough to put his fears out there unlike Blouse or others in their regiment.

She can't deny that she respects him a little for acting in such a way and now the feeling is faintly more so after he voiced his reservations against the criminal they buried together. She doesn't believe his sadness is warranted on such a low-life, thinks he wasted their precious hours of sleep on a useless crusade of "instilling moral principles".

Or perhaps she's projecting. Her self-worth meter is low just like him only she's much better at hiding it.

There's a distant groaning and a snap at to her side and Annie's side-glance reveals the shortest of the group is stretching. "I don't know about you guys but I'm taking a nice long nap when we get back." Springer says. "I slept like absolute _shit_."

"I'm pretty sure all of us did…" Bertolt murmurs.

The shorter boy shrugs. "Exactly. Which is why we all need a nap. And when we're allowed to go into town, I'm using that time to sleep _again_!"

"Doesn't that sound nice." The tall loud-mouth in front of Annie breathes out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Ugh, this mission just drags on _foreverrr_." Kirstein drawls. "Why the hell did Shadis plant these flags so far away_? _I bet the other teams have beat us by now. Last place, here we come!"

"Stop whining." Reiner reprimands behind them. His eyes deviate to the sky where a large flock of birds fly over them. "We'll be back soon enough and if we explain what we found, Shadis will understand. He's an asshole but he can be reasoned with."

"What else am I supposed to do? It's not my fault this walk is boring as hell."

"I've got a fix for that!" Connie says confidently. He puts a thumb and forefinger to his chin and eyes their surroundings. "I spy with my little eye…"

"If you say something that's green or brown, I'm going to hit you."

"Jean, _stop it_." Reiner orders in a sterner tone. "Either play the damn game or shut up."

"I don't _want_ to play; I want to go home! The barracks smell like rank mushrooms and sweat but I'd rather be there than have to spend one more day out here. Our rations are compressed bread-air, all of you _and _I reek from nasty B.O, I've got bug bites everywhere and—damn it." Kirstein twists around, inspecting the distant cracks and rustling around them. His frustration tugs his mouth down farther. "Who the _hell_ keeps making that cracking noise?! It's freaking me out!"

Springer puts up his hands. "It's not me."

"Wildlife." Annie says as she watches a mountain goat scamper away.

"No, the sound isn't from _any_ of us." Reiner remarks. He walks forward then stops like a deer caught in front of a gun muzzle. All of them listen. The groans turn into louder and louder cracks and a rush of sound soon adds to the melody.

"What the hell...?" Kirstein questions through a tight jaw. Annie comes to a realization right as Kirstein grits out, "Oh come _on_…"

"_Mudslide!_" Reiner yells. "Run!"

The cadets shriek in alarm when a mud torrent blasts over the large boulders farther out in front of them, breaking all of the smaller trees and adding to the stream of gunk. They all sprint back down the trail, dodging the next river of mud bursting over where they once stood. Brown globs of sludge races down the mountain's decline, forcing the man-made trail there to collapse and break off into the pulpy wave.

The rumblings from falling boulders and trees draws multiple splits in the trail's foundation. Everyone sprints at top speed and when Reiner and Bertolt turn the pathway's corner, the fissure runs deeper. When Annie runs over the edge after Springer does, the damaged dirt-corner splits, crumbling away from the main road. Annie shouts in panic as her body is dragged to the side and she tries to see if she can aim her hips to cling her anchors onto something, but there's nothing in sight which can bear her weight. Arlert grabs her forearm just as she starts to fall but the soil loosened by rain betrays his footing and the added weight breaks the edge entirely.

Both cry out in alarm with the group shouting behind them as they tumble and roll down the steep mountainside. A fetal position and forearms tight over Annie's face guard her against the twigs snapping beneath her body and smaller rocks gouging her sides. Her gear is long gone, she's going down _too fast, _and Annie tries to move her arms to latch onto something. A deep slice down her forearm and a tree stump thwapping her shins stops her. She grunts and whines through the abuse until finally, her body approaches a leveling of ground. After a few more rolls, Annie stops on her belly.

She winces, not eager in having to brace the pain of her wounds which ripped her clothes rather than use steam to stitch herself up. Cut hands tremble as they plant into one of the twig-leaf piles littered around her body. She pushes herself up to ensure their safety and sees the flow of mud continues over only toward where they once traveled to. Relief blows the hair strands in her face up before they fall back down.

A strangled groan rumbles nearby and Annie ears shoot up.

"_Armin!_" She overhears someone panic. Annie twists onto her side, seeing Kirstein's heels form mud trenches along the steep decline until he stops at his friend's side.

Her throat closes at what she sees; Arlert's leg is clearly broken—the shin slightly bent to the side—and bits of wood stick out from his arm all the way to his shoulder blade. Shaken concern breaks her composure and Annie rushes to get up. Her feet trip over themselves when she stands but she pushes through the pain throbbing in her legs until she is at her teammate's side.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Kirstein's attempt at touching Arlert's leg earns him a pained groan of protest. "_Fuck!"_The frustrated cadet shouts. "This mission can't get any _worse_!"

"_Shut up_ and talk quietly." Annie hisses in a low voice. "Let's get him out of here and find a safer place. This area is unstable."

The teenager worried for his friend grinds his teeth but he nods. Annie hears the calls for them and when they come into view, her finger zips over her lips. She points to where they are heading so they could follow them.

"I'm sorry, guys…" Armin speaks through a strained voice. He coughs, exposing the light gloss of red over his teeth. "I seem to be a magnet for these kinds of things."

"Apologize when we're safe." Annie takes off her hoodie and through the wounded boy's hissing and resistance, wraps and ties her jacket around his leg in a makeshift splint. She grabs a hold of his ankles while a nervous Kirstein puts his arms under Arlert's underarms to wrap around his torso. "Just hang onto his forearms and we'll get you out of this mess."

Arlert grunts as they slowly lift him until both she and Kirstein stand straight. The blond teenager's face is tired and lined with small cuts yet through the pain clearly wracking his body, the sides of his lips pull up. "I was never worried that you couldn't." He says hoarsely. "When do you not know what to do, Annie?"

Annie's blank face doesn't show how her stomach is in freefall from his words. The feeling is…unsettling and her cheeks suddenly feel warm. Before her body can act on its own accord, her neck twists around to watch where they walk.

They soon reach a flat meadow in tandem of Reiner and the others catching up with them, their strongest comrade carrying a thick branch to better the splint she made. Annie watches as Reiner places the branch next to Arlert's leg and unwraps blankets and bandages from his pack to fit him for a cast.

This boy and his friends are their supposed enemies. She should feel nothing for them, and in some ways, she still doesn't. But she would be a liar if she denied how panic and concern for where everyone was consumed her mind throughout the time they ran from streams of earth. Now her worried gaze doesn't leave from the horrible bend of Arlert's leg, the slices cutting his flesh and clothes all around his limbs.

Today marks the first day when Annie wishes she could transfer her healing abilities to another person. She didn't even feel this way towards the father she permanently injured or the civilians she helped wipe off the face of this island.

This desire was only towards the boy who smiles at her.


	8. Chapter 8

Bedsheets collect into a ball within Armin's tightening fists. Pains from his damaged arm and shoulder are nothing but pesky twinges which he can bear. The blazing inflammation fire thumping in his casted leg, however, is another story.

He's nowhere near healed yet and there are hardly any moments where he's "comfortable" as the nurse so kindly asks. The infirmary beds have lumpy mattresses, his cast is itchy, sweaty, and he is _not _looking forward to another sponge bath—showering with a giant towel wrapped around an already thick cast would be _embarrassing _but less so than his physique being seen by a young female nurse. The only thing keeping his pain tolerance high and anxiety low is the lung-emptying relief of finally being safe within the confines of their camp.

"You should just take the pain medication already." A voice close by remarks. "You're not being brave by denying yourself something so basic."

Almost every hour now, Annie has been telling him to swallow the horrific tasting stuff the nurse left but one dose his first night here was all he needed to keep saying no. The raging dizziness coupled by a tendency to drool and blurt random things was not a state the young cadet enjoyed, just like he wasn't thrilled about waking up on the floor from having fallen off his bed this morning.

"No thanks." Armin responds appreciatively. "I'm not a big fan of the after-effects and the nurse said the worst of the pain is in the first couple of days. It's not like I'm getting out of this bed anytime soon with all my injuries." A reassuring smile hikes up his lip's edges. "I'll be okay. At least the healing salve helps soothe my other injuries."

Annie—outfitted in a tank-top and shorts—sits with a slouch and is crossed legged on the bed next to him. The bandage over the bridge of her Roman nose crinkles from a frown. "And because the greater pain is within those two days, it's all the more reason to _ .medicine_."

"Please don't worry, Annie. I-" Armin is cut off when her feet fall to the wood floor, her body leaning to the side to pick up the cup at his bedside. He jerks back in time with her shoving the cup into his face and lightly pushes against it. "Annie, really! I-I'm okay!" The cup's edge is so close, the rancid medicine smell is enough to irritate his nostrils. He slaps his hands over his mouth when her free hand makes a grab for his wrist. "'Mm-phine!" His muffled rebuke assures her. "I svear 'Mm-phine!"

Annie leans back and lets out an exasperated sigh. "I knew you can be stubborn but this is ridiculous. You're stupid for a couple days when drinking this stuff. So what? It's worth it so you won't suffer needlessly by _not _taking it." When she slams the cup down on the nightstand at his bedside, moonlight reflects in eyes greyed from frustration. "It's as if you're trying to act like the brave hero everyone's making you out to be. Well your _act_ is going too far."

His gut clenches from her words and at first, a series of bewildered blinks is all Armin can respond with. "Is that why you think I tried to help you?" His tone is full of surprise and to a keener ear, a little hurt. "To be some kind of hero?"

A tremor at the edge a thin, blond brow is all Armin gets before she says, "I've seen how you try to prove yourself. It's not an impressive display, but you try anyway. And you attempting to save me was stupid of you. You only got yourself injured when we could have isolated the damage to only myself."

Bunched eyebrows which are thicker than the average boy's upturn softly. "That would be awfully heartless of me to do to anyone, Annie."

"Then why are you even here? Your friend is dead set on joining the Survey Corps and I wouldn't be surprised if you follow him. You don't think you'll have to make snap decisions for the benefit of the group after you graduate? Ones which will leave others behind?"

Armin fidgets against the pillows keeping his back supported up—he's not understanding why this conversation had to take such a serious turn. "One of my teammates was in trouble and I was the only one who was close enough to help." He rationalizes with ease. "That's all the reason I needed."

Annie crosses her arms but not before she slips back onto the bed into a crossed-leg sit. "You say that now. I wonder if you'll think the same way when Titans or bandits are running after you."

He shrugs. "I don't see why I would change my decision even in that scenario."

"Don't eventry hiding what you really think from me." Annie says so sharply and cold, ice floods Armin's veins. "You're not a complete idiot and you know emotions can't bleed into group decisions. You say all of these feel-good things but you operate and engage based off logic just like I do. And what you did was _not _logical."

"I don't understand why this is such a big deal…" Armin fights back out of genuine confusion. "How was I even supposed to know the ground would collapse beneath us?"

"Because you bother to use your brain and big boulders falling all around us equals cliffs and walkways crumbling. You'd catch that even if you were half-asleep."

Armin runs his palms over his tense, damaged shoulders and groans from discomfort—he _hates _this conversation. He hasn't even sorted his own thoughts out about everything and he's not appreciating being prodded about a foggy memory. "Honestly, Annie, I-I don't even want to talk about this. Not after everything that has happened. Can't we just take solace in us being safe for now?"

He _swears _the older girl straightens her back for the dramatic effect of how she's made her point. "All I'm saying is think about it. Mostly because I was no fan of being supported by your loud-mouth friend the whole way back here. At least Reiner could have carried me on his back instead of you if I was the only one hurt."

A smile squirming with embarrassment and understanding wiggles up Armin's face. He's at least appreciative he knows _which _loud-mouth she's condescending this time— Annie often lumps Eren and Jean together, so he gets confused on which of the boys yelling at the top of his lungs is the one she finds more annoying.

"I'm not saying your reasoning isn't sound either, Annie." Armin begins to say. By no means is he trying to get into an argument with Annie as all he wants to do is end this conversation quickly so he can read under the candlelight_._ "But I don't think I could stand myself if I didn't at least _try _to help. I can't say I won't do the same thing in a more dire situation, but honestly, I don't know. I'd like to say I won't but...I can't say for sure." Sheepishly, he tries to offer a grateful smile. "I'm sorry if I scared or disappointed you."

Annie's face scrunches with distaste. "I wasn't scared." She fires back a little too defensively. "It's more like because you did what you did, now we're both sitting here miserably."

"Oh...," He marinates in her words for a bit. "I guess I can agree with that then." An owl hooting and leaves rustling outside the window nearby are the only noises around them for a couple seconds. "Well, while this situation isn't the happiest one...I'm glad we have each other while we recover here. Books are good company but people are better ones."

A smile produced from genuine happiness graces Armin's face though Annie only stares with eyes hollowed by fatigue. She redirects her sight to her bandaged arms.

"Whatever makes you feel better, I guess."

Armin chuckles low in his throat. Annie's somewhat relenting response is the best response he's gotten from her all day and he'll take it. Covered hands similar to the bindings brawlers wear in the matches within the underground unwrap the brownish-red bandage wrapping over her forearm and as she moves, Armin realizes this is one of the very few times he's seen Annie not wear her hoodie. Her frame is obviously thin and petite but every motion of her arm twirling from unwrapping flexes her small, strong biceps and highlights the pronounced muscle line splitting her forearm and triceps. Armin always knew she was stronger than she'll ever believe but he is surprised by how her physique is much more cut than her sweater lets on.

A gash stitched from her elbow up to the middle of her arm exposes itself to the air and Armin's blood curdles. She bled profusely from that arm, her body is riddled with bruises or slashes, her pale shins reveal uncomfortably large purple-yellow bruises which scale nearly half of her leg, and still, she fought through this visible misery to escort him to safety. He doesn't doubt she must feel insulted in some way to deny himself medical help when they fought so hard to bring him back and remembering everyone's efforts sows the seed of guilt deeper in Armin.

He didn't hear Annie get up as he explored his thoughts but he did catch her sudden, sharp hiss. His eyes fly over to see Annie's scratched fingers twitching as her forearm soaks in the warm water bowl on the nightstand.

Alarmed, Armin twists around to grab the medicinal drink and almost immediately, he yelps in pain. The series of holes in his back pulse from strain, adding to the agony aching in his broken leg and lower back. Trembling fingers finally manage to reach his cup and he holds it up to her.

"Here," He strains to say with a level voice. "If I'm not going to drink it, someone else might as well. You need it more."

Neutral orbs with the strength of the crystal-blue shimmering in them stare at the cup. Annie reaches out for the brown cylinder in his hands only to shove the edge so far back into him, liquid splashes against his sternum. "Stop offering me something which is yours. Keep it. I have plenty of salve left."

Armin doesn't feel like having another dispute so he sighs and nods. While she's looking, he decides to take the _tiniest sip—_enough for him to believe he won't be rendered too much of a bumbling mess again—to show he is grateful for all she did. Annie only keeps reapplying her salve over her wounds and rewraps her arms and hands with new bandages. Armin reaches for his own salve to remedy his wounds before bed. The mountain of feather pillows against his back isn't set up as comfortably as he likes and the pillows flop about around all while he tries to get his own shirt off. He then hears a quiet grumble in the background. Before he can turn, a palm is on the middle of his back and Armin jerks like he's leapt out of his own skin.

"Just relax and let me help." Annie shuts him up before he can ask what she's doing. With a nurse's gentleness, she gradually leans his body forward. "You don't know what you're doing."

He obeys and tries not to tremble like a leaf out of awkwardness as Annie stuffs an extra pillow behind his back before rearranging them. The new set-up of pillows is a bit relieving to Armin but his ease turns to tension when Annie lifts up the hem of his shirt. His breath comes in short, raspy hisses all while a soaked, warm cloth blots over the mess of back injuries until a ribbon of salve is wiped over overheating wounds. A sigh leaves him. His eyelids lower as Annie applies more salve, slowly fluttering open and closed from being free from pain for a short while before he finally shuts his eyes.

He becomes familiar with the unexpected softness of Annie's fingers as they work over arm and back muscles he wishes were as strong and bulky as Eren's. Her palm is warm as she keeps bandages steady over the area of wounds before taping them shut with a slide of her hand. Armin imagines how her arms are moving like they did while unwrapping her bandages, how her body swayed and moved, so fluid and routine, Armin is caught in a trance. How fingers which collect into a fist which cripples are so gentle and leave tingling ghost trails of feeling along his muscles when they move...

Trenches crease the space between Armin's brows.

That's odd.

He's never thought about such things about her in detail before.

Annie pulls away before his mind can churn wildly again. Her sight is aimed at the wall in front of him and she awkwardly rubs her afflicted arm before clenching her bicep. "I never did say thanks." Annie mumbles hardly loud enough for him to hear. "For trying to catch me. So, thanks."

Armin's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. When he finally finds his voice, Annie is already in bed twisting around in her bedsheets with her back aimed at him.

* * *

The next day, the infirmary nurse allows Annie and him to have visitors. Soon after daily training is complete, the number of people rushing into the infirmary warms and fills Armin's heart to near bursting point. There are hardly any chairs so Eren and Mikasa sit on his bed while Ymir takes over the last bed for herself with a repeated eyebrow raise toward Krista, implicating she is invited too. Reiner and Bertolt wave to him as they walk over to stand by Annie's bed while Connie sprints in with Sasha, Marco, and Jean not far behind. Sasha keeps running until she is next to Armin and slams her hands down on the bed.

"_Armin!_" Sasha yells so loud into Armin's face, wheat-colored bangs rush upward and uplift the hair over his ears. "_How are you feeling?!_"

"I said he broke his _leg_ not his ears, Sasha." Jean sighs as he moves to stand next to her.

"No. You specifically his ears were broken."

"_I didn't-"_ Jean shakes his head to erase the frustration reddening his face. "You know what? Never mind." Jean turns his attention to Armin. "Feeling better?"

Armin's nod is slight but his smile is bright toward everyone. "The pain comes and goes but I'm grateful it's not worse." He slightly bows his head forward in gratitude. "Thanks again for all your help, everyone."

"We don't leave fellow soldiers behind." Reiner chimes in with firmly crossed arms. "You took the pain like a champ the entire way here and it must not have been easy. I'm proud of you."

Warmth is fiercely reddening his face but his smile becomes bigger. "Ah, that's very kind of you to say. I was calm only because I knew I was in great hands."

"It's good to hear you're getting better." Marco smiles pleasantly. "You were greatly missed in class today! I needed my maneuver gear repair partner."

"I _said _I did my best." Jean huffs at his freckled friend. "Sheesh. You accidentally break a wire and belt and you pay for the mistake for the rest of your life."

"Yes, we're glad you're on the mend." The angelic voice of Krista relays to him. Eyes nearly as blue as his own sparkle with relief and Armin is flattered she is so touched by his healthy well-being. "You had us so worried."

"Sure, worried." Ymir sneers next to Armin. Her foot bobs up and down as she lays down with her hands behind her head. "More like surprised for me because when I first heard someone attempted to save another person, I assumed _you_ were the damsel in distress and your boyfriend Jean here got hurt trying to save you." Ymir sighs in over-exaggerated disappointment. "I thought there was no way I could lose, but I guess I lost my bet. You're not _entirely _spineless. Just a weakling."

Armin isn't sure whether to be insulted or grateful toward Ymir; the only one sure of anything is Jean whose twitching sneer exposes how he's mentally contemplating his revenge right that second.

Krista—her fists on her small hips—frowns at her friend. "Ymir, for once try to mind your manners especially when Armin and Annie are tired enough as it is." She berates. "He doesn't need to be made fun of for trying to help someone in need, especially after everything they've been through."

"Hmmm." The freckled girl croons. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. It depends." Ymir's hand shoots out for Krista's wrist, her back arching from the bed as her wrist hovers over her forehead. "I will but only if you know that I'll also act in such a courageous fashion for you, my sweet Krista. And when such a day comes, the tale of how our matrimony came to be is something the history books will praise for generations!"

Reiner and Jean nod repeatedly while scratching their chins—being a little _too_ curious in Ymir's words—and Armin has to _try so hard _to keep a straight face, trying not to implicate how his mind is also wandering into spaces he probably shouldn't be exploring. Krista, her face crimson and body now stuck in Ymir's ferocious hug, sighs. Saddened eyes transition back to Armin.

"I'm sorry for what all of you went through, truly." The girl laments wholeheartedly. "If I could take the images away from all of you, I would. I-...I can only imagine how awful that house must have been."

A heavy silence looms over the infirmary ward. With all his heart, Armin is thankful for Krista's sympathies but he wishes she never brought this topic up. The images of children's skeletons aren't easy to push into the back of one's mind.

"I should have been there." Eren snarls from the end of the bed. His fist slams into his palm, his knuckles grinding and pressing so hard, his fingers almost turn completely white. "If I was, I would have taught that fucker a lesson."

"It's done, Eren." Armin reassures his friend. "The man is gone and we're here. Nothing else matters."

"_No! _His gang friends are still out there and they haven't faced a trail or judgement yet! And when I find them, _oh, _I got some ideas. First, I'd chop of their hands so they'll never hurt anyone again. _No, _I'd go for the legs first so they can't run away!" Emboldened green dart to Annie. "You should have captured him and not have scared him so badly that he falls off his horse! You should have brought him back alive!"

"Is that what I should have done?" Annie's monotone voice inquires.

Eren's bares his clenched teeth and grits out. "_Yes. _They're bound to show up again. They're going to get away with what they did _again._ _We_ should be investigating the farm right now. Not the Military Police! How else are we expected to be good soldiers?!"

"There's no need to get riled up over his, Eren." Mikasa tries to calm her life-long friend. She puts a soft hand on his shoulder. "Everyone is here and is safe."

He yanks his shoulder away from her touch and yells, _"_That's not_ enough!"_

The atmosphere is too gloomy and tense for Armin's comfort, so much so he stares at his lap to avoid eye contact with anyone. Then a scoff so disgusted and powerful, spittle could fly from one's mouth enters the air. Perplexed eyes stare at Connie whose eyes are narrow and face is wrinkled with contempt.

"And you all like to gloat about how your points set you up well for the Top Ten." He demeans everyone. "But you all didn't bother to take the time to figure out the _actual_ truth."

Reiner and Armin glance at each other before diverting back to Connie whose eyes glaze over with malice; such a face is unsettling to see on someone so commonly happy. "Of course, the story we tell the public is about drug dealers being the murderers. If the public knew about what was actually in those mountains...there would be a panic."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ymir asks impatiently.

"Yeah." Jean looks toward his friend with a perplexed side-glance. "What _are_ you talking about?"

The creases between Connie's brows become sorrowful. "While you all slept, I had time to wander the forest around the barn. I couldn't sleep at all and I thought the night air would do me some good…but I was wrong. I got so nervous, I couldn't find my way back so I found shelter in a nearby cave. There I, I found something…something which showed me who _truly _was the culprit for hurting that poor family."

"Who was it?" Eren eagerly searches. The vengeful boy grabs his friend by the shoulders. "Tell me already!"

Connie deeply inhales and turns his face away. "I don't think I can say…I had to run the minute I saw them."

Eren's fingers sink into Connie's shoulders as he shakes him. "Say it already! Who and where are they?!"

Connie's chin falls into his chest and so quietly, he mutters. "Cannibals from Sawney Bean's cult were in the cave. There were skeletons _everywhere_…"

A hush comes over the room.

"That's impossible." Eren replies with a tremor in his voice. "Every single one of the cult members were hanged. The teacher said so!"

Connie shakes his head and holds his hands over his mouth, jerking like he's about to vomit. "I still remember how they look." He speaks through his fingers. "The loose skin on their faces, the nasty smell of their breath filling up the cave's air. Even…"

There's a pause and Armin leans forward in his spot on the bed, trying to see if Connie with his hands shifting about his face is alright. He then pounces up to loom over Eren, revealing wooden dentures in his mouth which were sharpened into razor-edged teeth.

"_They're super sharp teeth!" _He yells loudly.

"_What the-?"_ Eren leans back with a puzzled expression.

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_ Sasha shrieks while leaning away from Connie who switched to loom over her with the sharpened dentures. "The cannibals can evolve quick!" She grabs a nearby mop and swipes at the slowly approaching Connie-cannibal. "Back! I said _back!_"

"And here I was expecting Big Foot to be the 'actual culprit'." Ymir sighs and flicks away the grime beneath her fingernail. "What a waste of a perfectly good plot twist."

"I don't…" Marco struggles to comprehend.

"This makes no sense." Reiner comments with a judgmental look to his friend. "Connie, why are you— "

"Hey, _shut up."_ Jean reprimands Reiner with a hiss through his teeth. "If we get this story to stick, we probably won't do mountain hikes anymore. Think about it. Ongoing enemy hiding out in caves. Ones which _eat_ people. Sounds too dangerous to send newbies up there to me, right?"

"Say, Connie, can you remind me about the color of the cannibals' eyes again?" Reiner immediately goes along with the charade. "I was scared shitless and the trauma must have buried the details in my memory."

Armin can only watch as everything unfolds in front of them. Eren follows Connie as he marches around the room after a shrieking Sasha, asking if what he says really is true while others scratch their heads or roll their eyes.

"That was more disrespectful than I expected." Annie criticizes next to Armin.

"I'm not so sure..." Armin follows up. "Bringing up that house was…uncomfortable to say the least. I'm glad he diverted it. Maybe this is his way of dealing with everything?" Sounds from Connie's cannibal imitation and Sasha shrieking as she shoves the yarn-threaded mop against her friend's forehead fills the infirmary. Armin's smile lifts. "Comedy seems to be his and Sasha's coping mechanism."

Annie's eyebrows fall a little before she closes her eyes and looks away. "You're too understanding for your own good."

Armin's smile shifts into a wide grin. "Maybe but I hope not."

Armin looks on as Krista squeals away from a growling Connie and Ymir kicks him in the gut. His skit—or whatever this stunt Connie pulled—continues on with Reiner laughing in the background and Eren sitting back on Armin's bed, confused.

"I'll grill your buttocks into steak!" Connie declares to Jean which draws an uproar of laughter in the room. "Give me precious energy!"

"Touching my ass will be the_ last _thing you ever do!" Jean yells as he scrambles about the room to find something to hit his friend with.

Everyone laughs harder except for Mikasa who stares blankly at her less mature squad mates.

"Connie," Mikasa calls his attention. "Shouldn't you be more worried about the test tomorrow rather than running around spouting tall-tales?"

The comedic duo freeze in their spots. Connie's face pales and jaw slackens to the point where his false teeth fall out. "_Crap_. The test is tomorrow?!"

"We took that last week." Sasha says calmly.

"No, we had a quiz last week." Krista politely points out. "That was only to prepare us for the exam tomorrow."

"Oh."

Connie and Sasha stare at each other.

"_We forgot!"_ They both shout in unison. Both cadets zoom over to their tutor sitting in his bed and yank his arms for attention.

"You gotta help us, Armin!" Connie shouts in a panic. "I can't afford another F! I don't want to be hung upside down for hours again!"

"And I'll die from embarrassment of being the only one with no bread at supper time!" Sasha frets. "I'll die I'll tell you! I need that to live!"

"Sasha, it's impossible to die from embarrassment." Reiner tells her.

"_My body will find a way!"_

Through the two's shenanigans, Armin has to force back his aching arms and calm down his poorly performing students. Next to him, Annie's forefinger and thumb rub her forehead as her head shakes and sight stays down—she's probably exasperated or enduring another painful headache. As Armin prepares to sheepishly apologize for the loud mayhem adding to her pains, his nervous smile falls.

Platinum blond bangs cover most of what he sees but Armin uncovers the playful jive of small smile moving her lips, one which graces her face so well, the skin over her cheeks softens and fondly uplifts her thin eyebrows. He's never had his heart crash against his chest so hard before.

He's also never seen anything so breathtaking in his life.

* * *

Annie heals into a serviceable condition within another couple of days. She's dismissed from the infirmary and chained to focus on the studies she's ignored while being temporarily barred from combat. Reading alone in a quiet infirmary becomes lonely after some time, enough for Armin's shoulders to slacken and focus on the door in hopes someone comes.

Always, Mikasa brightens his day when she visits him. Yes, she embarrasses him too much in front of the nurse of how he's doing: if he's eating and drinking water consistently, if his bowel movements are regular, everything which would redden any man's face regardless of age, Mikasa shamelessly asks. But he loves having her around all the same as he does with Eren, even if most of his visits are about him gloating about how he's "mastered" a move and how he will get Annie next time they fight.

Armin wonders if somehow the sun hovers the tops of his ears when he thinks of her now. Annie's visits are few and far between and the way she stalks in so smoothly and ends up at his side so quick scares the _absolute living hell _out of him sometimes, but he's thrilled to see her nonetheless.

One day, Armin notices when Annie walks in how the fringes of her hair are partially damp with sweat and how her cheeks radiate with the pink-red symbol of a light sunburn. It's another little detail he never saw before and to him, the red highlight brightening up the fairness of her skin compliments her well.

"It must be nice outside." Armin breathes out with a smile. He leans back into the mess of pillows at his back and cranes his head over to the windowsill. "I wish I could go out there for a bit. The nurses are adamant I stay here and when we do go outside, it's never for more than five minutes. All they have to do is let me walk out with a crutch and give me a chair to sit on. I'd be fine like that for hours." He sighs. "In a perfect world, I guess."

Armin exhales longingly and those piercing light blue eyes which have admonished and acknowledged him are glued in his direction. Armin smiles then diverts his attention back into the courtyard resting in front of the higher up's quarters. There's a table with an umbrella and many flowerbeds filled with purple lilies and multiple-colored carnations; there's even a gazebo where he's seen some of the commanders go to smoke cigars and talk.

A clacking about the room and a metallic rolling against wood enters Armin's sense of hearing. Annie comes up to the side of the bed, holding the iron handles of a wooden-seated wheelchair.

"You've been cooped up for too long." Annie says. "If they complain, it's because they weren't doing their job right. The sun will do you some good."

There's a crutch in her hand to help him stand up before Armin can request for one. "Aren't you supposed to be studying though?" Armin asks worriedly. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Consider this my volunteer hours. They never said when I could and couldn't use them."

He gives Annie a teeth-revealing smile and it's been a long-time since he has hopped into a chair so quickly. Being rolled into the sight of the sun has never been more welcoming to Armin. His skin tingles and mood feels brighter just by feeling a sheet of natural warmth fall over his body. When they cross the sandy path and reach the cobblestone courtyard before a marble building, Annie parks themselves right by one of the flower beds, the one spot which is completely exposed to sunlight.

Armin sighs and he is unsure how much time has passed where he sits like this, simply taking in the sun like he did when he lay in the grass with his friends, imagining himself to be one of the flowers which sprouts nearby or in a warm cocoon before his new body erupts. There's a strange peace he can't explain when every pore feels to be injected with rays of invigorating, beaming life.

"I should have at least brought a sun hat for you." Annie comments with her hand hovering over her eyes. "The heat isn't forgiving on anyone right now."

"I don't mind." Armin assures brightly. "After staying inside for so long, I could turn as red as a radish and not care." He tilts his head back, soaking the cozy warmth of the sun in. "The sunburns will be worth it."

"My bet is you'll regret saying that first thing tomorrow morning." Her smirk is the slightest tug on the right side of her mouth. "Everyone always does."

"I'll take that bet!" He grins. "Except when I do inevitably get sunburned, I'll be a human radish on wheels this time, not a walking radish on what you call my 'twig legs'."

He gets to see it again, the brief exhale-like laugh and the slightest hint of a genuine smile which barely exposes one of Annie's canine teeth. A bubbly sensation rushes up in him. Maybe because seeing such rare reactions from Annie is why he becomes so happy.

"I wouldn't want you to do that to yourself over a bet." She moves her body back to the path of the infirmary. "I'll get you a hat."

"No, no. You're fine! If anything," A sudden wash of guilt comes over him. "If anything, Annie, I don't want to burden you with having to look over me like this. You're not my nurse and I'm certainly not going to make you act like you need to be. You don't need to feel obligated to help me because I tried to help you."

Sunshine colored fringe falls to the side with her head-tilt. "Do you want me to leave that badly? You seem to like to push me away every time I offer to help."

"_No." _Armin quickly denies. "I... I just don't want you to lose your own time to catch up because I wanted to go outside. Plus, we're lucky we haven't been spotted yet. We could get in trouble just for loitering around here."

"I'll manage." Annie crosses her arms and leans against the marble wall. "And I wouldn't worry about the officers noticing. The higher ups have a tendency to be drunk a lot."

Being reminded of the fact eases Armin enough where he feels comfortable to relax again. The coolness of the breeze and pouring of warmth over his skin is exactly as Annie said—he feels rejuvenated and his mood has bettered considerably.

As he sits and Annie stands, Armin gazes into a nearby flower bed full of lilies only to see the soil is riddled with yellow-petaled dandelions. The sight induces a shiver. Memory fabricates a transparent image of Grandfather wearing his brown straw hat and fussing under his breath as he crouches by the panel of flowers.

"_These damn things are stubborn." Grandfather's salt and pepper beard hid the frustrated downturn of his lips. "No matter how many times I tug these out dandelions out, they sprout back up. Of course, they always happen to choose my prized lilies to grow in too…"_

"_They're nice though." The smaller version of himself admired from behind his grandparent. While the lilies, violets, and daffodils scattered in the garden captured most people's attention, Armin liked dandelions the most. They remind him of himself—small, yellow, and curious to venture everywhere._

_The mustached end of Grandfather's beard uplifted from a smile._ _"Be resilient like these pesky things, Armin. No doubt they can be pretty, but their roots run deep and they keep surviving no matter how many times I tug them out." A tan, calloused hand yanks up a long, green wishbone-shaped root from the soil. "Sina knows they keep messing up my award-winning garden..." _

_Armin giggled and sat next to his elder to help. "Ok Grandpa."_

"You're smiling." The way Annie phrases her words is a mixture of a statement and an invitation for him to answer why.

"Just something I remembered." The timbre of his voice is simultaneously fond and far-away. Armin reaches over and plucks up the dandelion by its green stem. "My Grandpa worked on his garden almost every day and no matter how many precautions he'd take, no matter how many times he'd replace the soil or yank out the roots, dandelions would sprout from his flowerbeds. Sometimes they would be gone for months, even years, but eventually they would always sprout back up." Armin's last sentence comes out like a laugh. "I liked them so much, I found books to figure out why they keep coming back. They reach a stage after becoming a yellow flower like this where they have white floaties which can be carried off like sky lanterns. They mostly land in large expanses of land like grass and you'd _think _these things would land on our lawn but somehow they always ended up in his flowerbeds, like they _wanted _to make him angry." His lips spring up into a goofy smile and a laugh can't help but shake Armin's pained chest. "And Grandpa would always get so mad! He once threw his gardening trowel so hard into the ground, the top of it broke! Then he got even _madder _because he did that!"

His laugh is interrupted by a fit of coughing. Annie takes a concerned step forward and Armin's hand quickly waves her down. A hot flush burns his cheeks. "S-Sorry. You must find me to be rambling at this point. I tend to do that."

Her head lightly shakes in denial and Armin is relieved Annie isn't finding him to be some rambling weirdo right now. How she's focused on him and displays a face of ease reminds Armin of why he respects Annie so much: he'll either get a quick, clear reason of why he's being an idiot and ticking her off or her silence signals she is listening intently. He won't get much input from her but she _listens _which matters to him most_._ When he speaks insistently on something, Eren hears him out until he gets distracted and Mikasa listens but an insecurity biting in his brain worries she only listens out of motherly instinct to avoid hurting his feelings, something which he _knows _he's wrong about but is always concerned about anyway. With Annie, every issue she has with him is made clear and not hidden and he enjoys being told so, even if her words cut right into the bone.

"People treat dandelions like they're nothing but a weed but what's great about them is they are flowers too. They're just stubborn and flow and grow wherever they want to go or follow wherever the wind takes them. There's always a lot of them but each one is different in their own way." He pauses. He remembers how Annie dodges combat practice or sleeps during class—appearing like another lazy cadet— yet whenever she's challenged or thrown a trick question, she always exceeds expectations. Before Armin can think, he blurts out, "They kind of remind me of you, Annie."

_That_ gets her attention and her eyes narrow a tad. "Is that your fluffy, disguised way of saying I'm a weed?"

"Wha-_no, no, no!" _He denies immediately. "I meant you're the _opposite _of a weed!"

"I'm a flower then."

"Well, not _literally _a flower but similar to a family of flower, yes!"

Annie is silent then shrugs with an emotionless face. "Kinda lame but I guess the description fits. I'm weak and generic so I belong with a common flower type."

Flaxen hair whip the sides of Armin's face from his hard headshake. "Dandelions aren't lame_ or _weak they're _pretty! _And you aren't any of those things you say you are! You're pretty too not generic!"

Annie blinks more rapidly than he's seen before and Armin's gut plummets to the floor. His chest tightens from panic when grey-blue eyes awkwardly roll over to his then dart away upon contact.

"I say that not in a _weird _way of course b-but—." He sputters out and scrambles to find an answer. "Platonically! I mean that very platonically!" _Wait, saying that might make her feel like she's _not _pretty. _"But I know of other people who think that way about you!" _No, that _still_ sounds weird. _"Not that I talk about you being pretty w-with other people, of course. I overheard them talking about you!" _Nice, now you made yourself sound like a stalker. _"N-Not that I'm listening for that either! You know how loud the mess hall gets sometimes when you can't help what you over hear because people whisper louder than they should 'cause people like Eren and Jean keep yelling at each other and everyone tries to talk over the noise and…"

The pinching of the corner of Annie's eye alongside a slight elevation of her opposite brow shows Armin's rapid rambling is only confusing her more.

Armin's lips press into a tight line and he sinks into his seat. "Forget it. Just forget it." Embarrassed, Armin throws the flower out onto the cobblestones in front of him and ponders where the nearest cave is so he can hibernate in shame for the next century. "You can wheel me back inside now."

Annie's arms cross a little more tightly and her shoulders hunch. "No, I think you've earned a little more time out here." Annie dismisses in a tight voice. "If you get in trouble for doing this, might as well make the time we spend out here worthwhile."

Armin spots how her fingers dig into one of her arms from an intensely tight clench. His eyes go from her arm then to her face out of worry. "Does your arm hurt, Annie?"

"It's nothing I can't deal with." She quickly dismisses.

"Are you sure? We can head back to the infirmary."

Her head tossing up tells him yes and to stop bugging her about it already. Armin complies and leans back in his wheelchair.

Despite things between them being a little awkward, he's comfortable here and wishes he had a book to read as Annie slides down the wall to her bottom, taking up the task of examining her boots. Silence consumes the entirety of their remaining time together, though Armin doesn't find the atmosphere so discomforting as he does with others. This silence is a comfortable constant and while Annie clearly has forged a stern presence around herself, the air about her is warm, calming even. A relaxed sigh escapes through the boy's nose.

This was a feeling he's never shared with anyone else besides his closest friends: how he could stay here in this setting and be content forever.


	9. Chapter 9

**I feel like I get mostly silence when I post here but here you go anyway lol. **

* * *

Outside the evening sky is black as ink. Usually Annie explores in her civilian clothes alone, but this time, Reiner joins her in traveling over the rooftops of the city. She hates every second of him following her, not just because Reiner can be an oaf, but because his burly body can't create the soft pitter-patter of cat-like lands on clay-tile roof like she can.

"You're going too slow." Annie says pointedly. "You should just head back and stand guard with Bertolt."

"I'm not leaving you alone." Reiner stresses. "You said you found a lead but it's also in the scummiest part of Trost where the officers are in the pocket of the scum. Besides," The confident smile hiking up his lips makes Annie want to kick him and his damn smile off the roof. "You may need a distraction."

"I'm the only scout we need. Last thing we need is giving these people more evidence that we're snooping around after curfew."

Reiner's stare then redirection of attention to the front of them implies he doesn't agree and won't talk anymore about it and Annie scoffs. They use chimneys as a cover when passing by second story windows and after hopping over bars filled with raucous drunks and violent cutthroats. Annie pays attention to the left of the roof edge to make sure the prostitutes on the corners don't see them while Reiner monitors the right so the gamblers rattling dice in the back alleyways aren't about to look up.

Seeing these souls live in such conditions reminds Annie of how growing up in the solitude of the forest may not have been so bad. This crowded town is the spitting image of Liberio where the impoverished wander the streets and scum—both Marleyian and Eldian—hide around every corner. That's possibly what's most frustrating to her—this place _isn't _different from Liberio or Marley at all, finds instead that people are the same wherever you go. The only true difference is she's stuck in this obsolete time where a modern-day assault could blow this land to bits.

"Here," Annie's black civvie boots land softly onto a one-story rooftop with Reiner quickly following after her. "This is the lead I found."

Beyond the heaps of trash and small river of grey-water in front of them, a sewer gate sits within a concrete wall. The width is small but with Annie's size, she knows the entry-way is large enough.

A thoughtful noise vibrates in Reiner's throat. "Where does this sewer lead?"

Annie dives into the collar of her hoodie and fishes out a piece of rolled, wrinkled paper. She opens up the parchment, exposing the crisscrossing of tunnels linking all the districts together. "This will lead us back into the Royal Capital. They've been taking extra precautions lately and cut off my other ways of getting in. But I found a way back and now, we can get back to work."

Hopeful hazel shake in anticipation of their prize potentially being near. "Do you think we'll actually get something this time?" He asks, his tone expressing his longing for her to say yes. For once in the very few times in her life, she wants the same thing Reiner wants right now. "This will finally help get us a location on the Founding Titan?"

"Only one way to find out." Annie rolls the map back up and stuffs the cylinder-rolled paper back into her hoodie. "Let's hope it will."

A crashing noise followed by a sharp cry whips Reiner and Annie's heads toward an alleyway.

_"Get back here punk!"_

A boy about the same age as them runs out of the alley before falling into a puddle. He crawls forward on his hands and bare soles of his feet until he stands again but not before two men rush out from the same alleyway. As the blond-haired boy runs, the two men catch up quick and the tallest one slams a long baton down onto the boy's middle back, knocking him to the floor. When the tall man holds the lantern over the boy while his short companion crouches and struggles to hold the teenager down, Annie sees the fire glow against the insignia on their backs and over their hearts: the thorny red roses of the Garrison. A foul taste coats her tongue.

"Ah-_ha!" _The short man exclaims.

From under the boy's ragged shirt, the man yanks out a loaf of bread which has been flattened and is soaked into spongy mush. "I knew it was you!"

"Try to steal from _us _you little _shit." _The man looming above the two snarls. "We warned you once to not pull this crap again. Now you've asked for it."

"I just n-needed it for my sister." The impoverished boy hiccups. "P-Please I didn't— "A baton slamming into the boy's shoulder cuts off his sentence and he shouts from pain.

"Shut up rat!" The man holding the lantern snarls. "We gave up our land and food for you leeches. We even let you get away with having half our loaf last time. But you just keep taking and taking and _taking_. Now you'll take what you deserve." The man standing sets down his lantern and wrings his hand over the glossy end of his baton. "We'll do what your Titan-feed parents should have done and teach you some _manners!"_

Another crack of wood striking against bone sends a shudder through Annie. The boy's cries are nails to a chalkboard and her gut rumbles like there's a virulent stomach virus gnawing at her stomach lining but she can't do anything. She's a ghost looming these streets right now and she can't afford to expose herself. The boy's pleas for mercy are attracting too many bystanders already.

At the same time Annie struggles to ignore the boy's cries, a dark shadow comes over Reiner's focused face, alarming her. His front leg flexes to break out into a sprint but not before Annie steps in front of him as he leans forward.

"_Stop_." She orders threateningly. "Remember to actually think before acting."

"The kids had _enough_." Reiner snarls. He stands and towers over Annie like a vicious bear, his own growling scowl just as threatening as one. "You expect me to sit back and watch these fuckers abuse their power? I can't and I _won't._ I've seen these same kinds of assholes when we were struggling to get by. I won't stand by and let this happen."

Annie's eye twitches in annoyance. Reiner has no right to let a vexed hero-complex harden his eyes or compel him to help, not after everything all three of them have done to put that boy in this situation, not after what _he's _done to Marcel. A slow rise up from the ground with malice binding Annie's jaw and narrowing her eyes is all the taller boy needs to lean away from her.

"If you jump down there with all those bystanders, it doesn't matter if you beat them up without showing your face. You stick out like a sore thumb and next time we're allowed in town, enough people will recognize you_. _How are we going to explain what you were doing out this late when a civvie brings this up to the higher ups? Why a _cadet_ was in the city when they are strictly kept on the training grounds? And what do you expect your victim to do when he's saved? He'll remember you and you'll implicate us once everything begins." She shoves Reiner in the chest, sending him a few steps back. "Stop being an idiot and snap out of it already."

The anger tensing the muscles in Reiner's neck fades back into smooth skin. A couple blinks removes the remaining anger boiling in his eyes and he backs away from her slowly. "You're right. _Shit._ You're right."

Reiner cringes when a desperate shout for help rips through the air. Annie's eyelids lower from disapproval.

"I'm doing this alone from here on out and that's _final_." She declares. "You and Bertolt will stay in the camp and watch the others. We'll make less mistakes that way."

Reiner's remorseful mood quickly evaporates, being overtaken by a resolute face forged from their Warrior upbringing. He nods in agreement before Annie and him walk away. The growing silence as they head back to camp only feeds Annie's spiraling thoughts.

The madness Bertolt warned her about the day of their scouting mission is getting worse. His Warrior-self harbors such "contempt" against this race then he reverts into the esteemed soldier his Walldians friends admire him as.

Something is wrong with Reiner and she's not sure what to do.

* * *

"You mentioned you had a family before all of this." Annie asks him on one of the rare days Arlert's female mother-friend is not here and Yeager is too sore to remove himself from the barracks. She sits at the edge of his bed and brings up her knees to her chest. "Tell me about them."

There isn't pain on Arlert's face like Reiner reacts to the request or loneliness when Bertolt is asked the question by other cadets. There's a shine in the blue-filled hoops in his eyes, like he's excited to share and is amazed she's even remembered.

"Hm, where do I start?" He begins to tell her and leans back against his pillow. "For as long as I can remember, my mother and father owned their own metal workshop. Water pumps, furnaces, and stoves were their specialty but they could fix and weld other things for repair. They'd even do cookware if money ran low. They ran one of the best shops in Shiganshina and their work showed why! The shop looked so fun, I remember one time when I tried to cut wood with one of dad's bandsaws once and," He lifts up his hand where a beige scar blemishes his palm. "You can see why they never let me back inside again. Grandpa looked after me from then on. He never told me what he used to do but I would always find him reading or tending to his garden. He'd read to me too, even when I couldn't understand all the words yet. He looked after me when my parents passed away and when the wall fell," The boy once anxious to explain his family's details stops. "I'm sure you know the rest."

"Obvious to see then where your curious streak came from." She quickly says to not spoil the mood.

The younger boy gifts her with a wide smile. "Yeah. I see it too. I guess apples don't fall far from the tree. What about you?"

Annie shrugs. "I just have my father. Not much else to say."

"Tell me about him." He repeats her request with a smile so genuinely interested, her heart quickened for a moment.

Annie stays quiet. She remembers her childhood vividly but there are no memories of loving, affectionate parents like Arlert has. The most affection she has seen her father show is when he massaged her sore ankles and legs after a particularly bad day of training or when he carried her to bed after she collapsed from exhaustion. Pats on the head for doing well made her day even though it would soon be unraveled by his demand to keep going the next minute. They're not...happy memories but Annie supposes if he truly didn't care, Father wouldn't have gone out of his way to do such things.

Or at least, Annie hopes so.

"You were right when you asked me." Annie exposes to him. "If I was raised around a forest. I spent a lot of time in one. We were hunters in a very small town, one you can't find on maps anymore. He taught me which flora to eat and which animals had the best meat. We'd sell what we caught to our neighbors and we'd keep the rest for ourselves. Until…" A flash of Pure Titans running behind her then her waking up in the refugee camp floods into her mind. "You know the rest."

The injured boy nods and this whole situation suddenly becomes odd to Annie. What she says isn't necessarily a lie—Father and her trained for survival in the forest depths by hunting for food and any prized fawn or boar they would capture would be a decent reward for a hard day's work. Even merchants were interested in their spoils when Father was noticeably stressed about money. To spill bits of the truth even when it's under the disguise of her being an inhabitant of Wall Maria was...a little relieving.

"Is there anyone else?" He pries politely. "Some other friends maybe?"

Annie focuses on her hands resting in her lap.

_Anyone else..._

No, not really. Pieck is the only person who Annie can call barely an acquaintance. She was kind to her despite Annie's aloofness during basic training and the girl's intelligence is a force to be reckoned with, so much so, Annie's curiosity ventures how Armin and Pieck would spare in a battle of intellect, to see who is truly cleverer and sharper.

Porco is the _last _person Annie wants to see with Zeke and Magath being not too far behind him. She fought hard to keep her distance from the mastermind War Chief and the easily embittered boy who will undoubtedly become more resentful when he learns about the fate of his brother.

"No." Annie finally says. "There's no one else."

Arlert bobs his head somberly. "I'm glad you have someone though. Without Mikasa or Eren, I don't know what I'd do. I... I honestly don't even know where I'd be right now. Everyone needs someone."

"Mm." She softly acknowledges.

An awkward silence hangs between them.

"Will you bring him into the inner city with you?" He asks her.

"What do you mean?"

"Once you're a part of the Military Police, you can bring immediate family into the Royal Capital." Arlert proclaims. "You could find your father a nice house and be only a few blocks from him." He laughs a little. "I know because Jean rambles about all the things he's going to do in the Military Police a little _too_ often. Most soldiers bring in their families and I bet they go see them when they have their lunch break." Arlert looks side to side suspiciously, then puts his hand next to his mouth before he says, "You didn't hear it from me, but I bet Jean's going to get his mom a two-story house _and _have her be his personal chef. Take it from me, I know a mama's boy when I see one."

His playful grin implicates himself as being the same as Jean but Annie only remains quiet. She's been in the Royal Capital more than enough times to know what kind of people live there. She'd prefer to bunk in the barracks than have a dedicated home near people who hold themselves to ridiculously high standards.

"Maybe if my circumstances were different, I'd join the Military Police too." Arlert tilts his chin up to stare at the lantern flickering with light up high. "If my parents were still here, that is. Dad may have enjoyed seeing the expert metalsmiths they have there. He used to talk about contests he could enter or sculptures master crafters could make. Mom may have gotten to buy some silk dresses too. She never wore anything fancy but we all deserve _something _nice once in a while, right?" Arlert ceases talking. A steady chuckle then shakes his chest. "No, I wouldn't have changed my choice. Learning new things is in my blood too and exploring was on my mind even when mother and father were alive. They wouldn't like my choice but I believe they'd respect it...maybe."

Annie notices when she allows her ever-so slight smile to grow like she does now, Arlert responds with a grin which nearly shows all of his teeth. She truly envies how someone so timid is so aware of who he is and will do what he wants regardless of what's in his way. He's made so much more organically than her while she is a product of regurgitating discipline and control. Annie knows what her limits are, what tasks or train of thought she can't properly process, but that's it. And once all of this is over, once everything she and the others have been looking for is found and brought home...she doesn't know what else to do. She has her father, of course, can live out the rest of her days with him. But there are bitter memories in the small house where she grew up and interests which had a chance to sprout were shoved to the side to prioritize her training. There are no friends or respected comrades in the Internment Zone or within Marley and the only people she knows uproot too many bad memories.

"Annie?" The boy at the head of the bed asks.

This time in broad daylight and not in a nightmare, Annie's brain recycles the enemy cities she and her then four-man team reduced to rubble, of how Xavier was so frail in the last year of his Curse and what the strain of coming to her end will reduce her too, how Father looked so miserable as he apologized in front of her before she left for Paradis. She wants so desperately to go back and at the same time, she wants to run from a place where too many wounds remain unhealed.

A warmth from what feels like long fingers then a palm spreads over Annie's shoulder. The sensation takes only a second for Annie to register and she jolts so violently away from his touch, Arlert wrenches his hand back.

"I-I'm sorry!" He apologizes with his hands out in front of him. "I was just making sure you were—."

Annie scowls and leaves before he can finish.

As Annie stomps away from the infirmary, a decision burrows deeper into her. She can't afford to reminisce about the past or think about the future like this passionate boy can—she gets distracted too easily and thinking about impossible things wastes her time.

A little over a couple months pass until Arlert fully recovers and during the rest of the time he heals, Annie never visits him again.

* * *

"Are you alright, Annie?" Arlert broaches.

Annie's cold gaze induces a quick flinch from the boy. "I'm fine."

The bridge of a pointed, pink nose dares to _pinch, _like he's nonverbally saying he doesn't believe her.

"You think I'm lying?" Annie challenges, annoyance sharpening her voice.

Arlert's eyes flitter about and his mouth squirms. "It's just...you've been staring off into space more so lately. I thought something was bothering you."

"I said I'm fine." She dismisses for the final time.

The always-questioning cadet stares at her with uncertainty before leaving her alone as her crossed-arm body language demands he do.

This runt of a soldier's observation skills are maddeningly sharp. Arlert's bugging her, being called to the training ground bugs her, _everything_ around her broils her blood. A little over two years has passed since they laid siege to the first wall and her trio is nowhere near closer to finding the Founding Titan. She's exhausted, Reiner proceeds to be disgustingly bold and act like he's one of these Walldians despite everything they've done to them; Bertolt is aware of their mission's tasks but he follows Reiner's deceptive path eventually and smiles warmly at who both of them call their friends. Annie's muscles shake from barely controlled aggression.

She doesn't have_ time_ for this.

Sparring practice is Annie's only outlet. Her stoic face never flinches and the swift force of her shin driving into a cadet's raised forearm lets lose a sickening crack. When others charge to retaliate for their fiend, a chorus of agonized moans and shouts of pain louder than the norm quickly enters the air. The crunching sound from ribs almost splintering and two boys groaning on the floor catches Shadis's attention.

"Leonhardt is fiery today." The commandant observes with stone-cold eyes. "I'm curious. Let's see which one of you can take her down. At the ready!"

At first the crowd is anxious but Shadis's promise of a hearty boar dinner draws a mass of students rushing her way. Of course, the boy who challenged the soundness of her mind is forced to be up first by Connie shoving him forward.

Annie holds back a snarl.

Arlert yelps and almost twirls twice when she flips him over her back. She doesn't acknowledge him when he groans, only eggs on the remaining cadets with an icy command of, "Next."

Her kick aims low in hopes she renders Reiner sterile then rams her heel into Bertolt's chest to collapse one of his lungs and for as long as she wishes this misery to continue, fellow cadets either rage forward or scream away in fear.

Fighting is the only thing she can control and she controls this battlefield.

Annie tucks the sweaty, loose hair out of her face when everyone is no longer foolish enough to charge her again. Moans and whimpering grow louder in the masses surrounding her but one which sounds like an anxious growl rattles close by. With her eyes lowered from exhaustion, Annie finds the quiet Ackerman held back by Shadis's hand hovering in front of her. Yeager is restrained by his stronger friend and grunts and yells to be released from the arms Ackerman has snaked around his stomach, keeping him from exchanging fists with Annie.

Annie and the Beast glare burn twin holes into each other until the smaller girl revokes her attention with a twist of her body.

The only one foolish enough to be happy from being pummeled into the dirt is the blond boy whose eyes glitter and smile stretches wide in the corner of Annie's eye.

* * *

Gifts.

The gesture is something foreign to Annie. She's never received a gift before and she's unsure how to feel.

Finding the rose pin and flower-embroidered hair band in a box on her pillow was the first offense against her privacy. She throws the gift box away the next day and glares at everyone to be sure the entire barracks knows she's unhappy with the present and she's almost certain the boy who she can flip easier than pancakes is behind this. The next few times she receives gifts happen in places only Annie knows where to look or places she flees to when she skips class or wants to isolate herself. Such a hint has never made her suspicion so much clearer: it has to be _him, _the only one besides Mina and Bertolt who have the audacity to repeatedly ask how she is doing, no matter her mood and no matter how easily she frightens them away.

...so why isn't she as angry as she thought she would be?

Annie can't tear her eyes away from the sylvaphane bag filled with green, sour hard candies from one day, a grey jacket with fur stitched into the hood from another, or a baking book to "make her sweet dreams come true" as a handwritten note proclaimed.

These aren't random of typical gifts like flowers—they're _thoughtful. _Father's temporary lack of indifference when she did well was all the gifts Annie was once granted before, now there are these physical expressions she holds in her hands from the Walldian winter holiday.

She is still deciding if she should say thank you or punch Arlert in the gut again.

* * *

Of course, the night when they are all allowed back into the city is on an insufferably cold one.

Snow sprinkles over everyone's heads and the air is frigid enough where Annie dons the fur jacket she received from "anonymous." This farmers market in the city square is nowhere near as tasty as both Marleyian and Liberio cuisine but there is a new bakery which she has heard many good things about and Annie can't resist hunting after the baker's stand. Sasha's loud shouts from a nearby street tell Annie her training mates are not too far away and are raiding the highly advertised pork and boar skewers at the other end of the street. Annie flips the fuzzy hoodie over her head in response. She'd prefer to be alone tonight as it was awkward enough walking past Arlert who waved to her as he wore a hat which was more suited for summer.

As Annie scans the busy streets of parents and children, a newspaper catches Annie's eye. In bold printed ink, the front page is the man her heel sentenced to death. She almost wants to laugh at his lame street label "The Candy Man", only to remember just how sweet his goods must have been to the clientele she saw in Trost's slums and the Royal Capital. Annie picks up the paper, quickly reads over the lines of text in how others are being apprehended for the crimes found in a house within the forest and finds the past of this man is just as mysterious as who he worked for.

Her tightening grip shakes the newspaper. She can't forgive this man. She can peer into his motives but she can never share the sadness Arlert had for the path this man chose, to mourn the person he could have been. This man chose to bring nothing but fear within these walls much like gangs did within her own world and she _despises_ him for it. Annie glares menacingly into the man's hand drawn image, and within her skull, a memory lying dormant stirs. Annie sucks in a shaky breath.

Blood and bullets fly everywhere, high-pitched screams which scrape at the throat fills her hearing, and there's _laughing. _Annie shuts her eyes tightly. A deep breath and tossing the newspaper back at the merchant as hard as she can chains down the memory of the diner in Liberio being attacked. After a few more deep breaths, Annie gathers herself again.

When she moves away from the booth, Annie sees Bertolt and Reiner walk down the lane opposite of where she stands.

She can't ever catch a break.

"Oh, Annie!" Bertolt calls and waves with a smile. Her glance toward them is enough to motivate the two to walk over. "Where you able to grab one of the boar skewers yet?"

"Best hurry up if not." Reiner says through his munching of the last meat-chunk from his skewer. "They're selling out quick."

"I'd offer you mine if I hadn't eaten mine already…" Bertolt says miserably and ducks his head. "But I can run and get you one! And-" He pauses. "Where did you get that?"

Her head-tilt showing how she's confused makes Bertolt point to her jacket. "That, your jacket."

"Bought it." Annie responds with an uninterested tone.

The brows of her tallest teammate furrow. "But...you hate shopping."

"I needed a new jacket and the weather is cold enough for my nose to fall off, so I bought a new jacket." She snaps snidely. "It's not a hard science to understand."

Annie saunters down the street before Bertolt's opening mouth can inquire further and wanders the busy streets alone. She's not sure if both of them believe her—she's not the best liar, after all—and the last thing she needs is the only people who understand her questioning her actions.

From that point on, Annie plans to wear her gifts only when no one is looking, when she's absolutely positive no one is around and she's safe in being alone. She doesn't have to throw away these gifts yet and she doesn't want to, not until she absolutely has to.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm finally passing!" Springer declares. He slams the paper with a C+ grade onto the mess hall table, his grin proud and fierce. "The teacher can _suck it! _Tell me I'll only ever wind up washing toilets in the Garrison. He'll be lucky if he gets to wash _my _toilet when I'm in with the higher ups!"

"You're lucky hand-to-hand combat doesn't count towards your grand total." Kirstein smirks after taking a sip from his cup. "If they did, Annie would probably go out of her way to make you flunk out"

"Like she wouldn't do the same thing to you. If combat points counted, _no one _would pass." Springer shudders like he's remembered something foul. "Her fighting style is otherworldly. I mean, didn't you _see _her and Mikasa fight?"

"Of course I did and Annie's fighting is as kooky as she is arrogant and weird. I've never heard of the village she's from but I bet it's chock-full of big-nosed midgets who do nothing but scowl and beat each other up for social status. It would explain why she's so bitchy and quiet all the time." Kirstein slams his cup down. "That's it! Because I can't remember her town's name, I hereby dub this mystery land: Village of the Beak-Faced Dwarves!"

Springer slaps his hands over his mouth and muffled snickers bleed through his fingers while Blouse laughs more loudly and says either innocently or stupidly, "She'd really like that name! It's funny!"

When Annie glances over through the yellow drapes of her bangs, she notices Arlert sitting close by looks far from enthused.

"I don't like you saying things like that, Jean." Arlert makes clear with a frown. "That's mean of you."

"I agree." Bott chimes in with all the grace of a chastising mother. "Insulting a person's looks, especially someone who is polling ahead of you in points isn't very becoming of a soldier or a leader, Jean."

"What the _fuck _gave either of you the impression I was nice? This is my default behavior! And stop imposing your idea of what I'm supposed to be, Marco, because I sure as hell don't want such a stressful title."

"It's still mean and you know I don't like it, so please stop_." _Arlert exhales from the challenging glare Kirstein gives the smaller boy. "Let's talk about something else. Like how _your _grades are starting to slip now."

"For fucks sake. You two are ganging up on me like a couple of nagging, old biddies. It's near the end of this shitshow and I'm ready to _leave! _Why would I want to try to get a good grade when I'm a shoo in for the Top Ten and graduation is only a couple weeks away?!"

"You could do that." Arlert attests with cool composure. "You could not do the leftover homework and stand to lose a few points. But who's to say the final test and physical portion are set in stone? What if they're subject to change? Being a soldier means uncertainty and Shadis has hammered that fact into us for three years. Maybe he's orchestrated some way to incorporate that into our studies and then those few points you lost on top of a poor score end up keeping you out of the Top Ten."

Kirstein's stubborn face doubts such a scenario until the wrinkles from his scowl transforms into subtle nervousness.

"You're almost there, Jean." Bott motivates his friend with an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder. "A little more studying won't hurt. You can relax all you want when we're in the Capital."

"You two and your damn mind games…" Their vexed friend grumbles. He then throws open the notebook Arlert set in front of him and the motion has Bott leaving to probably fetch their books. Meanwhile, Annie braids Mina's hair across the room.

She enjoys hearing the conspiracy theories of how her talents came to be; Kirstein and Springer are talented in fabricating stories, after all. Their tales became even more fun when they asked her how Father crafted such a fighting style and she responded with such a vague answer, the two left more confused than they came.

"Please, no more." Blouse begs in the distance, her upper body sprawled over the table. "My brain can't absorb anymore."

"Sasha, you've only been studying for five minutes." Arlert reminds his student.

"And that's not tiring for you?"

The young teacher wags his finger. "_Remember. _If you do well, I'll treat you to something when we go back into town." He looks to Springer with a motivating smile. "I'll get you something from the funny shop too."

Both of them hiss under their breath "_yes" _and high-five while Kirstein snorts. "Oh, ok. It's like that. What will you get for _me_ then if I do well?"

Arlert ponders the question. His face lights up and he pounds his fist into his hand like a gavel. "I remember an old omelet recipe from my mother that I think you would like. I'll share it with you!"

Annie can hear Blouse and Springer snicker "mama's boy" and Kirstein's face turns cherry-red.

"I don't need that stupid baby crap! Just get me something like a cool hat or shirt so I can woo the chicks in the Capital! _Sheesh_."

Annie stares a little more closely and sees Kirstein silently mouth the words "You better share" to his tutor in time with Arlert's enthusiastic thumbs up.

During the time she spies with her ears and eyes in the mess hall, Annie's gaze has been lingering more on Arlert like she does now. She isn't so sure why, only is sure this started by her glaring to warn Arlert how she knows about the trinkets he leaves behind for her in secret, that she isn't fond of his unneeded charity. Then the next few times was out of a hot curiosity which pricks at the chest and narrows the eyebrows and it started when Krista asked to join in on study sessions. She remembers this feeling as jealousy—to which her next question to herself is _why _would she feel so envious about Krista spending time with _him? —_ and Annie's frustration was exacerbated when Springer and Kirstein slobber like dogs in heat, excitedly telling Arlert to accept her as a student.

Now Annie stares out of intrigue. Arlert is dedicated in making sure his friends reach the places they aspire to be while he remains the odd man out; he has no chance of making the Top Ten, after all. He will get left behind while his friends will move on to greener pastures and an abundance of food while he remains in the lower ranks of the Garrison or the Survey Corps—the only options left available to him. Why would he waste his time this way when these people will leave him in the end?

When ocean eyes move too quick for her to dodge, Arlert smiles brightly at her and the sight of knowing she is caught is enough for Annie to jerk.

"Ow!" Mina complains below. Annie accidentally tugged on some of her bunkmate's hair.

"Sorry."

"What's distracting you up there?" Mina frowns as she looks up. "No one just randomly tugs when you're looking _right at_ the braid. You going cross-eyed or something?"

"My arm still hurts a bit." Annie uses her past injury as an excuse. "The pain makes me flinch sometimes."

Mina stares up at her bunkmate, uncertain. "Are you sure you're ok? You look distracted."

This isn't good. Even Mina is noticing.

"Fine. Just tired."

"Are you sure?"

This competition between her and Arlert of who-can-stare-the-longest-when-the-other-isn't-looking has been lasting for too many months, Mina's continuously skeptical face reveals how it has.

"I'm clearly too tired for this." Annie says as she moves away. "Have Krista help you. I'm going to bed."

As Annie exits the dining hall, the voice inside her head scolds her vehemently. She's a master of side analysis and perception and yet she's failing to dodge a boy who is somehow even more fragile than her. How long she stares is noticeable even if Reiner and Bertolt focus and if Mina is picking up on this habit Annie just realized she was building, Reiner and Bertolt may have seen her growing issues months ago.

As she quickly turns a corner, Annie almost bumps into Kirstein's freckled friend.

"Ah, whoops!" Bott jerks to the side when Annie's speed walk halts. "Sorry about that. It's rare when Jean is convinced to study so I have to jump on the chance whenever I can. I get in such a focused mode when I run too; it's like I have horse blinders on!"

He chuckles a little from his own words while Annie stares apathetically. "S'fine."

Bott seems cheerful for a moment then his palm awkwardly reaches behind his neck. "Look, it's easy to overhear things in there so about what Jean said...I'm sure you heard it and I'm sorry you had to listen to those mean things. I know he doesn't mean it too. He's just lashing out because you and Eren scored above him in the Titan mannequin test today."

"I don't care about what he or anyone else says." Annie states candidly "There's no need to waste your time in apologizing for what someone else said or did."

"I understand. I felt the need to anyway. You really are remarkable, Annie! You'll be a force to be reckoned with in the Military Police." Bott's smile expands until he shows two rows of fully shown teeth. "I look forward to working with someone as reliable as you when I'm with the Police too! I'm sure if all three of us work together, we'll absolutely make a difference!" He spins around and sprints toward the mess hall. "See you later!"

_He's just like _him_. _Annie thinks to herself as Bott leaves.

Bott's soul possesses a purity much like Arlert only his physical prowess and confidence is greater. Just like Arlert, she doesn't dislike being around him but she doesn't prefer it either as both of them are a reminder of how she's everything they are not.

Annie sighs and looks on to the far away fences of the camp.

She needs to enter the Royal Capital again; these past few tests have stalled her research long enough. And if she's lucky, focusing on her mission will distract her.

* * *

Winter has become Spring and throughout all those months, Annie has made no mention of the gifts he has given her. He knows she knows _of _them, has caught her glowers and snide attitude aimed at him more than enough times, but she never brings them up, never acknowledges their existence; she only keeps to her same routine: train him and Eren, flee to the training grounds and study hall, or venture with Mina around the campgrounds or on her own.

He _really _hopes she likes them and him not having details of her approval—or more likely, disapproval—of them is tormenting. Time is slipping through his fingers and like a child eager to see if they've done well, he finally finds his voice.

"I hope you like them." Armin tells her on a day when Eren is disciplined with early morning chores and can't join them in early morning training. "The gifts, that is."

The elbow strike his forearm blocks is so powerful, Armin winces. For a moment, there is silence and Annie's face remains directed at the floor until slowly, her chin lifts up.

If human glares could cut through flesh, Annie's could slice right into the bone. Her blue eyes are glossed with malice and as Armin stands, his vertebrae slowly feel like they are melting into jelly.

"So, you finally fessed up." Her dangerously tight voice searches. "You _did_ give them to me."

Armin's hands shake but it's taken him this long to open this pandora's box so he decides he should stand proud and face the aftermath. He nods.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

She pulls him forward with her free hand and the knee opposite of her striking forearm shoves into his gut so fiercely, Armin's vision goes dark for a moment. His body curls over his stomach and Annie takes the opening to grab his shirt collar and wrist. He registers only the momentum of her twisting around then his feet are robbed of the floor, then he's flying up and falling over her shoulder before gravity throws him down and his body slams into the ground. Her tight grip still holds his wrist hostage and she twists and shoves his forearm so hard into the middle of his chest, Armin yelps. Her body weight sits on his stomach before his vision becomes clear and finally, he registers the hand not holding his wrist against his sternum keeps a wooden knife over his throat.

"_Why?"_ She repeats aggressively.

It's from this angle where Annie glares murder into him—her face hovering so close, he can see the faint black lines circling around her pupils in a sea of grey—when Armin finally _sees _Annie.

A confusion which torments her, a self-imposition of being worthless, and a yearning he can't place are all sealed tight and hiding behind Annie's eyes. He knows because those hollow feelings have made a home in him too and he doesn't like them being present in someone he views as a friend.

"Because you give so much, Annie." He says in hopes those feelings festering in her wash away. "You train Eren and me and ask for nothing in return. You found food for us when we were all bickering and struggling to just work together and be a team and then watched over us all night. You helped carry me back to safety even though you were hurt yourself." Nerves clog up his throat and suddenly the pleasant weather becomes intolerably hot. His trembling free hand rises to take Annie's forearm—the one she injured and currently uses to threateningly hold the fake knife to his throat. "You were even so quick to go after someone whose done so much harm to others. You had no regard for yourself, only for the family who was hurt and sought to get justice for them. You're _so kind, _Annie. Most people don't give you enough appreciation for what you do or label you as horrid things which I know you're not...so, _I _wanted to say thank you. You looked like you needed something to lift your spirits that day, so I thought getting you things you like would help. I only hope all of the presents were enough."

The rustling wind is the only noise and only relief against Armin's heat-scorched skin.

Out of all the emotions Annie's displayed over the past three years, Armin has seen mostly a bored stare, condescension in lowered lids, or an angry glare but never has he seen face-widening shock before. Annie then looks down on him like he's an odd insect—what she usually does when she's puzzled— but this time, her face looks pink and there's a tremor in the muscles of the forearm he holds.

The blunt end of the knife hovering over Armin's Adam's apple recedes. He purposefully lets his hand hold her forearm for a second more, to sink in he's being nothing but genuine, but Annie manages to slip away. Her bangs hide her face as she rises off him.

"I've never had someone try to fight me off with bribes and compliments before." She derides, though her voice doesn't have her usual sharp, conceited edge. "Talk about a first time for everything. You're even able to hold up against one of my strikes now. Dare I say it, I think you might actually be _improving. _Took you only three years._"_ Armin wants to smile but he's too focused on the curtain of bangs which hide her face. When her eyes expose themselves, light blue has flooded once fierce, grey eyes. "We're done here, Arlert. I've exhausted most of my moves on you and Yeager and now there's little time left in basic training."

An invisible fissure painfully splits Armin's chest. "Wait, w-was it something I said?"

Annie's tired eyes look into to his and he sees what he hoped to see again—the ever so slight curl of her lips and soft uprise of her brows.

"No, stop overthinking things. There's just no point in teaching you both anymore since our ranks are practically set. This is just me making you aware. Tell Yeager the news."

What she says sounds like an excuse to get away from him but Armin doesn't press her. He nods and watches the back of her golden head as she retreats to the woman's barracks.

Armin scarcely wonders if he should have stayed quiet and not said anything but he shoves the thought away.

Annie deserves to know someone here appreciates her for just being _her._

* * *

Annie lays in her bed, analyzing everything. She's manifested a nasty habit of staring at Armin, she doesn't know how to react to all of his gifts, and after everything he's said...she's even more confused about this whirlwind of questions stirring about in her head.

She despised him in the beginning, pegged him to be the Paradisian incarnate of Reiner back when he was in Warrior training—a meek, weak child who performs poorly in almost all he does, whose only benefits to a team lies in indoctrinated loyalties and manipulative tactics. And when Reiner helped his smaller friend during their run in the rain, Annie was more convinced of how her comrade had seen what Annie assumed: Armin's desire to save humanity involves him seeking to become a "hero", so similar to how Reiner longs to become one too; a modern-day Helos for Marley, or so she speculates.

But Armin is not so gullible to believe all who teaches him like Reiner was, walks his own path rather than chase after acceptance from the military like she suspected he would. He's clearly too apprehensive but not to the degree where hesitation blocks him from voicing his beliefs like worry has done to Bertolt, not to the degree where he blindly follows orders like Reiner or goes with the flow like herself. Even Eren goes against the tide of authority but Armin creates a completely different road which others can't see, rhapsodizes of an adventure beyond the walls and how the world's mysteries don't just reside in dark things like the Titan mystery or an innocent's death, but expands into so much more.

Years have passed and Armin keeps proving her preconceptions of him wrong. From his dream, to the fortitude he shows through hand-to-hand training—even when he knows he'll keep losing—, trying to save her even when doing so meant being dragged down with her.

He called her pretty once too.

A hand Annie doesn't know why is quivering falls over her heart.

She's not training and there's no adrenaline rush from the threat of an attack either. Yet here she lies awake, her heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks feeling as warm as hot stones. Annie can only liken what she feels as a fireplace being trapped in her chest, beating a powerfully warm pulse filled with wonder and tingly warmth.

This mysterious flame has been rising inside her since she found those gifts and the dreams of her and everyone spending time together aren't fading either; they're growing stronger with moments of when she and Armin are alone are becoming more frequent, more curious even.

Annie's eyelids slip shut. She mentally repeats a mantra: Father is waiting, her duty is still unfulfilled and the fire within her is snuffed out from a gust of cold air. She shouldn't be thinking about these things and needs to sleep.

As Annie drifts away into dreams, one surviving ember within her chest keeps her warm that night.

* * *

Armin walks through lush terrain and tall trees to reach his favorite spot in the forest. Thankfully, he's not in the mood to scream his lungs out in frustration today; he's only interested in finding a comfortable place to read.

Keeping his books and pen to his chest, Armin waves away hanging branches and sneaks between a line of berry bushes until he reaches his favorite spot: a piece of open, green land where a pond is nestled between a circle of trees and the sun hangs above both him and the forest. He immediately stretches his limbs and lets loose a long, at-peace sigh. Sometimes being alone was one of the things Armin needs most and right now, this is his safe haven where he can read and research forest-life in much needed quiet.

With his limbs falling down from his stretch, Armin spots something swaying with the wind across the way. Strapped to a branch on his most favorite tree is a straw hat, one which looks almost exactly like grandfather's save for the bright hay-yellow color. Startled, his body twists and turns around only to find nobody but him is here.

As he approaches, Armin notices there's a red cloth stripe around the circumference of the cap and peeking out is a small piece of paper. Armin takes the note from under the cloth band and reads it.

"_For days when the sun is too warm, even for you." _Is written in spidery writing.

He's seen this writing before and the edges of Armin's mouth rise.

_Annie…_

Armin excitedly tugs the hat over his head, grinning boyishly. He opens up the geography book he plucked out of the library's shelves and sits with his back against the tall tree. His eyes rove over every page on the inked, hand drawn maps of the kingdom, hoping he can somehow find where Annie's hometown is.

He'd like to send her Father a letter to tell him just how much his daughter is helping her fellow teammates.

The starry night is frigid and filled with the sound of fireworks going off in the distance. The freezing setting only makes Annie all the more upset when she remembers too late that the female showers are down. Her body reeks of fear and the Royal Capital's sewers, her shoulders still shivering from when an unbelievably tall MP almost caught her.

She finds the other showers and dirty hands shake as she turns the wheel and water gushes out. A scalding hot stream beats against her bare shoulders and Annie scrubs off the foul smell with a bar of grainy soap, pressing so hard and quick, her skin turns a bright, irritated red. She burned her disguise in one of the garbage bin fires in Trost's alleys and but even the thin rags she snatched up reek of her sweat and the sewer's lingering smell.

A yelp of fright reverberates the inside of the shower room. Annie's sight diverts to the side and her heart skips a beat.

"I-I didn't see anything!" Armin sputters out from his spot in the doorway. Why his hands are covered in what looks like soot, she isn't sure, but both of them cover his eyes. "I swear!"

Her exposed front is to a wooden wall and the divider on each shower stall is high enough so only her head hovers over the top. Of course Arlert couldn't have seen anything but him being here is dangerous.

"You better not have." Annie tries to sink in a threat for his silence at seeing her out this late. "And if you did and if you so much as _talk_ about this—."

"No, I didn't see anything and I should have announced myself!" He explains with a panicked voice. "I'm sorry! I'll leave you alone now!"

He twirls around and walks right into the side of the doorway before he shakes his head and finally finds his way out of the showers. The lukewarm water runs down her face and Annie peers down at the clump of rags sitting next to her.

A dirty blue sleeve peaks beyond the boundaries of the wood divider and into the shower walkway. Anxiety seizes Annie's gut. He could have seen them even if it was a brief second. These clothes aren't her usual attire and someone as sharp as him will notice.

Annie shakes her head fiercely. She's fine. She's far away from the entry way and the sleeve is barely showing.

Just in case, she burns everything implicating her late-night adventure later that night.

Last night was the _last _night he lets Connie drag him out of bed to be a night watchman for his pranks. The amount of gunpowder he used was _too much, _he warned. They had to be more conservative with their inputs, he warned. But the only thing Connie listened to was Jean and Sasha chanting for a bigger "_boom" _and it earned all three of them singed eyebrows and Armin with black-powdered hands and clothes which implicated guilt. If they hadn't bolted when they did, the firework explosion which flew into and destroyed an officer's outhouse could have put all of their graduations on the line.

And after last night, after that terribly awkward moment when he tried to clean himself off only to find Annie showering inside, he still stands by what he said.

He saw nothing.

Honest! He saw absolutely _nothing! _Annie has nothing to fear from him and her looking at him so suspiciously after that night upsets Armin greatly; he'd never do anything to sully her image.

What _does _upset him right this second—what absolutely locks his jaw and tightens and twists his mouth with frustrated fury—is how much he wishes he _did _see something. The desire is crude and primal, a bubbling urge which he wishes he could keep burying deep inside himself and ignore, but he's realizing this tangled mess packed inside himself is reaching bursting point and he can't deal with bottling these feelings up anymore.

Armin regards Annie like he does with the others—she is a dear friend— only his mind and body don't give her the same treatment like when he's with everyone else; his ribs feel bruised from how hard his heart beats when she's near and his face constantly burns like he has a fever. When she walks across the training grounds or into class, he pays attention to her legs, wants to see how calves chiseled by fierce conditioning look like again only not being marred by bruises this time, wants to watch in awe of how the sun reflects in mimic crystal eyes. This growing in-depth interest in a friendship frightens Armin immensely.

Something so un noticeable as her gait or hair being down like last night turns Armin into a jaw-dropped child whose been shown a shiny object. Everything she does is a never-ending song—from her flawless fighting and the few, meaningful words she says singing over and over again in his head and he _wishes _she could see what he sees, is tired of watching her from afar like a priceless object trapped behind a glass display case. He'd do anything to help give her the strength to erase the fear behind the façade she keeps up, wants to help her in any way he can to do so, even if it meant more broken bones and sleep deprivation.

Armin frowns.

Thankfully all of that nonsense is banging around in his head and he never dares says a word of it aloud.

He sounds like an absolute_ moron_.

What would Annie or anyone else think if this apparently harmless bookworm turned into the lecherous boys so many of the girls openly despise? He'd lose what little they had so quickly and as for _what _that exactly is, he's having trouble figuring it out, grows even more nervous as he _tries _to figure it out.

Armin takes a deep breath and tries to focus on something else, _anything _else.

* * *

The day everyone has been waiting for looms closer and the thought creeps into Armin's thinking. He stands in the guard tower while Annie sits close by, her eyes closed with a blanket wrapped around her. She has placed fourth in the Top Ten and she uses the honor to slack on one of her duties and attempt to sleep. Armin got through the physical portion of his exam by the skin of his teeth so in whatever average place he landed, the fact that he gets to graduate is enough of a reward.

Armin stares at birds gliding past the peak of the walls, where the sun now makes its slow descent to hide under the concrete tops. No one has ever seen the sun fully set; no one has also seen a clear horizon without the height of the walls blocking one's sight. All Armin sees is half an orangish-red ball hovering over the top of the walls. The clouds and sky before him have been dyed a purplish-pink and consume half the world above him.

The sky was as wondrous as this in an evening long ago—the sunset shining through the window across from his bed—only Armin couldn't enjoy the sight like he can right now. Pneumonia poisoned his body all those years ago and as he shook and shivered under layers of blankets, whimpered how he's cold, Mother dabbed his forehead with a soaked cloth. Father—who Mother said he could have been just as large as had Armin not been born too soon— brought him soup and ensures he was tightly secured in his bed. Father's mustache tickled his temple when he kissed his sick-self goodnight and a lullaby which both his parents sing spiraled him into sleep, something which Armin's memory still does today when his mood is darker and in need of light.

Armin's chest aches like he's been punched. Armin curls his hands into fists and hides them under his forearms, acting like he's cold rather than desperately hanging on to his composure.

"Do you think we'll ever get to see them again?" Armin asks in a dreary, faraway tone.

Annie closes herself into her blankets more to hide from the cold. "Who?"

"The people who are no longer with us. Our parents. Do you think we can see them again?"

"I _am _seeing him again." She declares with firm resolution. "I don't know what you're going on about."

Armin looks to Annie then shakes his head. "No, I mean…I mean will we ever get to see the ones we lost, those who aren't with us anymore? I figured you'd know what I mean. I really hope I'm not being too invasive because I noticed," He nervously glances at the wood floor then back to Annie. "I noticed you never talk about your mother."

The cold in Annie's eyes coupled with the darkening of her face alerts Armin of how he's brought up the wrong topic. Annie doesn't respond—diverts her eyes to show she's closed up entirely—and Armin wants to smack his forehead and boot himself off the guard tower for even mentioning anything.

"I'm sorry." He says sincerely. "I just wondered because your focus is always on your dad, no one else. I wasn't sure if your mom was around or not."

Annie says nothing and Armin figures her reaction is what he deserves for being so nosy.

"I hope we can." He exposes in hopes Annie becomes more comfortable again. "There's so much we don't know. What lies beyond this place, if there even _is_ a world out there beyond the walls." Armin exhales, long and slow. "I want to see them again. It's been so long and I don't even have a portrait of mom or dad to remember them by. Their faces are becoming fuzzy in my head now and if I could, I'd trade the chance to travel just so I could see them one more time. Even just once…" He stops before emotions thicken his voice. Annie has stayed uncomfortably silent and carefully, Armin sneaks a peek at her.

Never has he seen such a mix of solemnity and identical desire in Annie's downcast eyes. Seeing her so lost in what he fears is the same pain he endures drives a stake through Armin's heart.

"We're graduating in two days. Let's not talk about depressing things and just focus on not freezing our asses off tonight." Annie opens up the rim of her large blanket and holds it up to him by the edge. "Hurry up and share this with me. You'll get sick from the cold and I don't feel like being responsible because I was hogging up the only blanket."

Armin has to bite his cheeks to keep down how wide his smile _could _have been. He sits beside her and touching shoulders and calves with Annie has his heart leaping into his throat. He tugs the blanket over himself and Armin sighs in relief.

Over time, the blanket doesn't mean much to him; it's Annie's warmth and closeness which helps erase the fog of sadness hovering in Armin's head. He shifts the hand holding the blanket closed atop his kneecaps only to notice Annie does the same and he accidently bops the side of her hand.

She flinches but doesn't jerk away like she did in the infirmary nearly a year ago. Curiosity is a plague in him and in wanting to explore this open window more, Armin keeps his hands on his knees close to hers, so when they inevitably rustle and knock against each other to sit comfortably under the blanket, he can sneakily draw closer.

He gets to memorize the soft feeling of her hand resting beside his not too soon after and by some magic, she doesn't pull away.

* * *

**No, it wasn't a mistake to shift her thinking about him by name rather than last name. Though perhaps there are some who are reading this and saying "FINALLY" because...I sure as hell was LOL. Remembering to refer him in the last name grew painful lol. But Annie keeps her distance so much, I had to. ;L**

**There's also been a lot of discussion about a "New" Helos and while I honestly lean more toward Armin being it, the discussion is convincing me of how Reiner may be the more likely choice. Or maybe it can end up that both will be heroes to their own people so the "peace" bridge can be made—Reiner being a hero to the Eldians in Marley and Armin to the Eldians of Paradis. Let me know what you think!**

**Also, 10/10 Armin could wear Luffy's hat and rock it. My belief is unwavering.**


	11. Chapter 11

This fanfic now has cover art! But for some lame reason, I can't plug the full link here but I can at least do this to link it. (post/189494783755)  
Eveblum on tumblr/instagram did a beautiful job. ;-;. If you like the piece, go give her a well-deserved job well done!

Have a good holiday season!

* * *

The decision was born on a night with the full moon hovering large and bright in the sky.

"_We breach Wall Rose." _Reiner's voice echoes in her head. _"That's the only way left to smoke out the Founding Titan."_

"You realize you'll have to be quick, don't you?" Annie points out. She peers behind her where Bertolt walks. "Once you succeed in breaking the entrance, all the soldiers will be in disarray but not Yeager. He'll charge right for you the moment he sees you."

"I know he will." Bertolt acknowledges. "But the battles we've done before this mission and maneuver gear training have prepared me to be as quick as possible. Don't worry, I'll be able to sneak away." His tan face becomes flushed, like he's suddenly overcome with warmth. "I-I appreciate you being worried about me though."

"Of course I am. If you botch this then we're all going to be exposed."

Bertolt's shoulders drop a little and Annie gives her taller teammate a puzzled up and down examination. He has always been a skittish, timid thing though she knows he is capable once he narrows his focus; he wasn't the best sharp-shooter in the Warrior Unit for nothing. She just wishes Bertolt was more determined and less cowardly throughout their time here.

"He won't botch anything." Reiner backs his friend up. "Bertolt can do this. And if for some reason something goes wrong, we'll be right there to help him." He looks over his shoulder and knitted brows paired with the gold and brown mixing in his eyes accentuate his deep determination. "We're going home soon, and when we do, it will be with all of us together. No one will be left behind."

There's a reactive squaring of Annie's shoulders from his words and in moments like this is—when Reiner displays the strong conviction so many trainees admire him for—she wants to be able to believe in him. He doesn't possess the same caliber of leadership Marcel had but even Annie can acknowledge he's adapted the role well enough that they have had consistent focuses; it's why they are in the military now and have the ability to infiltrate the inner city more organically.

"_They're Eldian Devils." _He rationalized when she said his friends will die._ "They're not like us. But it doesn't hurt for us to gain their trust."_

_And look where trying to do so has gotten us_, Annie bites back in her head; with knotted stomachs and nagging uncertainties which none of them will admit they struggle with.

She knows what Reiner says is a deeply harbored lie, how he has no feelings for the people she knows his fractured self sees as friends. He's always been sentimental and emotional and Bertolt is no different; maybe _she's _no different either. She grew numb to stomping rival armies into submission. Now they must destroy people who have grown from preteens into adolescence at their side—just like all three of them have in childhood—and Annie's hesitation has become ten times more suffocating.

She doesn't follow Reiner and Bertolt back to the barracks once they re-enter the camp. Annie deviates from their path and walks into the nearby forest, the only place she can be alone.

Frogs croak and grasshoppers chirp all about the forest and the conflicted girl keeps walking, lost in the busy streets of her thoughts until she comes across an open pocket within the forest. There's a pond at her side and the water's rippling surface below the looming moon shimmers like diamonds.

Next to the lily-pad border of the pond, Annie spots someone crouched beside a line of bushes.

"Arlert?" She questions.

The squatting boy spins around in surprise then hurriedly presses a finger to his lips. "Sshhh." As she slowly approaches him, he whispers so quietly to her, "You'll scare him away if you're too loud."

Below the bush is a small, white-coated fox with its long snout pointed to the ground, sniffing around the slice of bread Armin has laid out for him. The critter can't be any more than three-feet long and has ears which point up high on its furry head. The fox takes a test bite then after it licks its chops, the fox leans down and repeatedly munches bigger bits of bread. Annie stands above Armin while his observation eats and the weaker cadet so slowly reaches for the log patched with moss behind him. He grabs his wood seat and moves himself onto the log so _painfully_ slowly—clearly trying not to frighten the animal he closely watches—, Annie is tempted to grab him by the shirt-collar and shove him into his seat to hurry _up _already.

Armin finally sits and opens the book resting on the log, muttering to himself as he writes, "Approximately three feet long and two-inch ears. I've mostly seen them later at night so most likely they're nocturnal. Potentially an omnivore if it's willing to eat the bread..." A duck swims up to them and belts out a demanding _quack _which jerks Armin, as if he's been reminded he's forgotten something. He reaches for the wrapped bread on the ground and crumbles another slice into small bits before throwing them into the pond. The ducks within the pond rush around the bits to feed and Armin pays attention to the fox as it nibbles the remainder of the bread then trots into the bush from whence it came.

"Is there a test about feeding fuzzy animals that I've forgotten about?" Annie investigates with her arms crossed. "Or do you just do this kind of thing for fun?"

"When I have time, I do." He admits unabashed, his intrigue outweighing the nervousness she always sees. His pen stops its quick writing for a moment before he peers over to her. "Although, it's possible we _do _have a test about feeding ducks. You may have been sleeping in class again."

He has the audacity to _tease _her and Annie snorts. "Really? Even when I sleep in class, I've always remembered a test date."

Armin lets go of an amused chortle. "Alright, alright that's true. You caught me."

"Just for trying to trick me, you owe me an explanation." She glances furtively around her, checking if Reiner and Bertolt followed her, and when she concludes she's safe, Annie sits next to him. Leaning over so slightly, Annie spots little scribbles across the pages of Armin's notebook with small drawings of animals he's come across next to his list of notes. "You take your cushy hobby pretty seriously." She taunts with a teensy side-smirk.

"Do I?" He inspects his book's pages and flips some back and forth. A smile she isn't used to seeing as shyly proud adorns his lips. "Ah, I guess I am. I can't help it, honestly. You see only so much during the day, but at night, it's much more active here. There are mostly owls and foxes but other times I find different breeds of them which are different colors or sizes. I even saw a few beavers once! Only they're much more territorial than I expected them to be..."

"You should expect that when you try to approach a wild animal. It's fight or flight and our faces are more fun for them to eat then lick." Armin' face contorts like he minorly disagrees or wishes the fact she brings up wasn't the case. Annie homes in on the bread load covered in cloth sitting on the log. "Still, it's daring of you to steal bread from the kitchen for your little animal friends."

"The cooks won't miss a tiny loaf of bread and this is only the second time I've taken something." Armin matter-of-factly reasons, his train of thought locked on his notebook's pages again. "If they did suspect anyone, I would be far from the first pick and the cooks are lazy so they'll blame Sasha since she's always stealing food. And even if they _did_ find out it was me, it's not like they can touch me anymore now that our ranks are set."

"How cunning of you." Annie observes with her cheek resting in her hand.

Armin's eyes dart about the forest sheepishly, seemingly ashamed she's called out the devious side she had always known was in him, a side he tries hard to hide. "A little, I guess. But I have to consider the situation, right? It's not like anyone is getting hurt over a small piece of bread being stolen. This isn't a dire situation like last time." Sapphire globes hungry for knowledge look up into the coal-black sky. "We graduate tomorrow and this place has helped me a lot in the more stressful times of training. I just thought I should enjoy this place one more time, especially tonight. The moon is so full and close, it's like you can grab it. It's nice...and relaxing. What are you doing out here?"

"Just wanted some fresh air." She responds neutrally. "Girls don't always smell so sweet and fresh."

Wheat hair shifts from his head tilts. "You're an awful long way from the barracks though."

"I had to get far away from the smell."

He's one of the few who chuckles from her dry humor and he does so now. "I see. I bet you guys still smell better than the boy's though. There isn't enough fragrance in the world to get rid of _that _smell. It's always somewhere between soiled underwear left in the sun or two-week old roadkill."

Before amusement can inspire a side-smile, Annie's sharp hearing perks up. Before she can react, the fox Armin observed and two, four, six, _seven_ more like it spring out of the nearby bush. The biggest one grabs Armin's undefended bread loaf while the other dives into the water with smaller foxes jumping in after them, splashing both teenagers resting on the log. The foxes chase after frantically quacking ducks who flap their wings and fly off while others snap up the little bits of bread floating over the water's surface. Soaked in water on a brisk night, Annie's hand flexing with anger scrapes the water droplets off her face. Armin sits with a hunched back, probably dismayed at how half of his book has been become wet.

"I... I guess they liked the bread more than I thought." He laughs nervously. He jerks his hand a couple times to fling off flecks water and opens up the damp journal, scribbling on a dry corner, "They also have litters of about seven to eight. _Definitely_ omnivores. Really like bread..."

"They drenched my best jacket too." Annie snarls between gritted teeth. She stands up when all the foxes gather at the end of the pond across from them and reflex has her grabbing the closest branch. The long yet thin branch splinters and breaks off and as if sensing what's on her mind, Armin grabs her wet sleeve.

"Hold on! They're just learning how to hunt and they're harmless to us! They only came for the food and if we let them pass and stay still, they'll leave us be."

"They _better_. Or their fur will line my sleeves."

From across the way, the fox with the bread in its mouth perks up their tall ears. The small, white herd scurries around the other fox, prompting Annie to believe the father is who studies them and preemptively, her hand clenches the base of the branch tighter. The fox looks to her then to Armin, lingering on him for a while with his pointed ears aimed at the sky. The fox then scampers back into the bushes, his family following behind him.

"I'm glad they're more docile than the coyotes I've seen here." Armin exhales and leans back. "At least they don't try to leap for my throat."

"I'm glad too." Annie remarks while wiping off the sprinkling of wood on her hands. "It would have been embarrassing if all the training we did didn't help you fight off a couple of big bad foxes. What kind of teacher would I be?"

Armin's lips press into a thin line and a smirk twitches the ends of Annie's mouth, proud she finally succeeded at getting under his skin.

"_Maybe _fighting would help_._" He finally mutters. "But even the smallest animals know where to aim, you know! Some take on other animals twice their size when in a pack. I bet even Eren or Jean would struggle with those foxes if they leapt for us!"

"Of course they would. They're idiots."

"... I meant because they're taller and stronger than us."

"And because they're idiots." Annie continues.

Armin scratches behind his ear, keeping an awkward smile. "We'll agree to disagree there. They're...slower, but they'll get a hold on things eventually. They're dedicated enough to. It's why they made it in the Top Ten with you."

There he goes again, defending his friends and using positivity. It gets exhausting for her to hear, honestly.

Armin's hand scoops back his wet hair so his bangs pull over the peak of his head, exposing his forehead and pronounced sideburns. The bridge of Annie's nose pinches. She isn't a fan of how Armin's temporary look reminds her of Porco or Marcel's hairstyle and decides to stare into the glinting water of the pond to ignore the resemblance.

"Did you at least enjoy your time during training?" He prods her with questions again.

"Yea, I enjoyed the pretty view of dirt, poor food, and chafing outfits. The open barracks with no privacy was the cherry on top of it all."

"...There's plenty of fault to find in the material aspect but I meant in terms of the people. I didn't know what to think at first but I'm surprised with myself." The soft lip-rise on his mouth's borders looks proud, relieved even. "I've made new friends and that's hardly ever happened for me. I've always had just Mikasa and Eren. Our time here was...trying—definitely—but there's a lot of good that came out of it too. What about you?"

"I won't forget this place but I won't remember it too fondly either." She responds in a detached tone. "Everyone was what I expected them to be."

_Just like me. Selfish and evil to the roots, out for themselves._

"Have they now?" Armin states more like a dejected statement rather than an actual question.

Annie takes pity on the boy next to her quicker than she expected. "...Some were less disappointing than others." Her fingers tap against her cheek, contemplating her next few words. "Like the gifts you gave me. They weren't the worst choices."

He visibly perks up from her comment even though she deliberately made it sound backhanded. The excitement on his face then melts away quickly. Like her, his eyes never break contact from the water rippling in the pond before them.

"Annie, if you don't have anywhere to be right now, I'd like to ask you for something." She looks at him slantwise. "Or really _do _something. It's a little unconventional of me and I'm not sure how you're going to react...but...I just hope you're not angry with me afterwards."

Annie's vision makes a discomforted dive to the left before she looks back at him.

"No." She answers.

"I-_huh?" _He asks, dumbfounded.

"If that's how you're going to propose doing something then _no. _What kind of weird introduction was that anyway_?"_

"I'm just being honest with you!"

"And that's earned you a no."

"Annie, _please."_

"_No_. Not if you're going to start off whatever speech you're about to drill me with like _that._ Clean up your thoughts and try again."

She's a harsh teacher and Armin's groan coupled with a clenched jaw is _very _misplaced; he should know her grilling him like this is standard procedure by now.

"Fine, fine." He sighs in defeat. "All I can say is if you don't like what I do, you can throw me into the pond. I'll even sport a purple face and broken limbs during the graduation ceremony if you just...let me."

"I'll knee you in the groin first." Annie bargains with a straight face. "_Then _I'll throw you in the pond."

"...Now that's just uncalled for."

"Take it or leave it."

"Agh, fine! Just...close your eyes." His baby-like cheeks are stark red and he looks away, the blue globes glinting in the moonlight finding the trunk of a nearby tree interesting. "They can be intimidating sometimes."

Annie keeps drilling a suspicious glare into the side of his face. Armin has always been so earnest and upfront—even in times when he's challenged her. The mistrust she feels for so many others does not blare so loudly whenever he's involved, even though it _should_. More importantly, he's much too soft to actually hurt her and she can keep up with his quick mind, something which he himself is unaware of.

A wave of recollection washes over her; his doom will come in the nearing hours and guilt shrivels her insides, snows her in deeper into self-hatred. She wants to hope tomorrow won't be his last day—that somehow, he'll do as he did in training and survive—but hope has never gotten her anywhere and knowing her luck, Armin...will...

"Fine," She relents with an irritated closing of her eyelids. "But you've only got five seconds so get on with it already."

She crosses her lean arms tightly, like she's preparing to shove them into him should he so much as _try _to cross a wrong border while her hearing catches Armin sliding over on the log. She's built up her walls to maximum thickness—impervious to all emotions—yet her shoulders shiver when hands which can't hold calluses take her shoulders. He gently pulls her forward and her reflexes flinch with need to pull back but arms cross around her shoulders before she can flee and her cheek presses onto something warm and firm with muscle. Puzzled, her eyelids open.

Her face is in his shoulder and Armin's arms have snaked around only her shoulder-blades while leaving a respectable space between their chests. He trembles like a young fawn from either the cold or this hug but his hold on her is strong. An owl's melodic hoot is all they hear for some of the longest seconds of Annie's life.

"Thank you." He speaks softly next to her ear. "For training Eren and—" Her face lifts marginally from a short laugh shaking his chest. "_Trying _to train me. Thanks for helping me when I was injured, for the hat, for everything. I really do appreciate all you've done. You always looked alone throughout our entire time here and you didn't really talk to anyone and... most people responded in kind, but that doesn't mean you'll be leaving here friendless." A little sound leaves her when the clutch around her steadily becomes tighter. "I consider you my friend. We'll be separated soon and... I just wanted you to know that and give you a proper farewell."

Annie's too stunned to find her voice. This hug isn't like the only one she's ever received; there's no fright or muscle-freezing shock here. A calm she's never known bleeds into her senses and pores, flutters her eyelids and renders her body boneless as she's held to his chest. Dare she say or even think, she also feels _safe_ here. The arms wrapped around her are soothing and him sharing warmth with her is the comfort she's always wished for—to be consumed in peace with someone whose qualities she respects and cares for, and with all of Armin's faults combined, all of what makes him good outshines everything.

Annie fixates on how his collarbone is pronounced yet there is a firm padding of muscle from the pecks his loose shirt hides. His heart is quick but steady, much like his breathing she hears. She doesn't know how to respond, ponders what to do with her crossed arms. One still holds herself—a lifeline to assure she is safe, to verify this is reality— while she lifts her other hand, uncertain what to do with it. She gets tired of overthinking quickly and lets her palm fall on the pec next to her face. His heart beneath the meat of her hand beats a fierce, thundering tune, one which is so much stronger than before and the chest she rests against is set ablaze like a bonfire fed new fuel. His body's music and fire intrigues her, spurs lithe fingertips to slowly trace a circle around the wall of muscle storing his heart. A dazed hypnosis takes over Annie and her fingers keep drawing circles, spurs her to wonder if her fingertips dig deep enough—if she can creep through the cloth on his chest— she can touch the flames of his passions roaring beneath his skin, be infected by all of what is housed in him.

"Annie…" His unsteady voice wakes her out of her haze. "What are you doing?"

Her ears sear with hot embarrassment and she stammers at the same time she lifts her head, "N-Nothin-"

His head turns at the same time her chin lifts and their lips brush together. It's the briefest touch but Annie's breathing hitches and she's not sure if it's from the thrill racing down her spine or the dread squeezing her heart. Impulse shoves her hands into Armin's chest, knocking him backwards and tumbling over the log.

Her voice trembles but she manages to tartly spit out, "What the _fuck, _Arlert_?"_

"I didn't mean for that to happen!" His face is crinkled with panic as he pushes himself up from the dewy grass. "I swear!"

"Like hell you _didn't." _She snaps angrily. "I wasn't born yesterday. The only reason why you passed _anything_ in basic training is because you calculate _everything! _That's just the kind of sly worm you are!" Her accusation is scathing and her teeth hurt from how hard her jaw has set, but inside, her ribs tremble with the labor of her breathing and Armin's eyes reflect the same level of horror and surprise which rushes through her body.

He rakes a hand through his wet hair. "Damn it. _Damn it. _Annie, I _really _didn't-" The cold air allows his dispirited sigh to visibly plume out his mouth. He mumbles almost inaudibly, "What is this now...the third or fourth time I've tried to help you and I've only ended up making you uncomfortable?" He counts his fingers and exhales again. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Talk about the last straw. Sorry, Annie. I thought I was helping you—I even thought you were kind of comfortable with me— ...but I'm only being a nuisance to you. I'll leave you alone."

He stands up and Annie so desperately wants to keep the scowl peeling down her lips— yell at him to knock his stupid self-pity crap _off, _that his suave speech tactics _don't _affect her_—_but a coil of panic tightens her chest and the anger crinkling her face erodes swiftly.

Armin slumps away—the metaphorical tale between his legs—and his back facing her is all too familiar, too close to when Father limped away after pouring his heart out to her, when Marcel was grabbed in front of her trio and eaten. Everything she loves or respects keeps getting hurt, or worse, killed because she didn't know what to do or say, because she had done what she does now and that's be frozen with cowardice, lost on how to respond.

All her foggy brain repeats is come tomorrow, she's losing someone again.

She's _losing _someone again and she's called someone who has only tried to reach out to her such a _horrid_ thing and hours before he's doomed to die at that. The part of her she tried to shut out can't live with this added sin, Annie knows it, feels the conflict fighting in the pit of her belly already. Her body gains a mind of its own and Annie shoots forward.

Armin's back snaps into a straight line when she tugs the back of his shirt. He so slowly twists around, glances down at the frighteningly strong grip she has on his shirt and the borders of his eyes enlarge.

Blown-wide blue zip to Annie's face and a mystified voice quakes out of him, "Annie…?"

A sharp adrenaline shot floods her veins and Annie jerks her hand back. The whirlpool of emotions she can never decipher bubbles and twists in every muscle and she regrets her sudden actions, _again_. She takes two steps back, staring frightfully at him.

Once more, she doesn't know what to do so Annie does the one thing she knows to do.

She runs.

* * *

Her sprinting through the forest let her avoid Armin. Keeping her distance also kept Annie away even after Bertolt succeeded in kicking open Trost's gate and the desolation from Titans they opened the door for distracted her from all thoughts of him that night.

But here she can't avoid him. Armin's passion has transfixed her and his stance has left her and every other soldier within the square stunned.

"As a soldier, I swore to devout my heart to the resurrection of humanity!" He exclaims, his voice firm and loud, desperate for someone to believe him. "There is no greater glory than dying for that belief!"

Armin shouts how Eren can be put to the military's use—he can be a weapon like the Power of the Titan's purpose was meant for— and as the Garrison soldiers stare, tremble in fear, Annie is frozen like the three boys next to her, her heart beating so fiercely, it could erupt from her chest. This boy who appears so spindly and timid—who shook like a leaf from one hug with her—makes his case with such intense vocal strength, leaves her in the dust on the scale of wills and bravery and the proof is right here; he's so dedicated to saving his friends, he's disarmed himself, shouts in the face of superior officers.

The frightened captain screams back his doubts and as his hand which promises life or death rises, Annie's hand shakes, drifts toward her sword handles kept on her side. She sees Bertolt and Reiner glancing at each other then eyeing Eren who raises his fist to crunch on—is now the time to make the grab? Or is it too soon?

Shock and a grab on the frightened captain's elbow stops her and all sense of breathing from everyone stops. She hardly hears what the older man says, the one who the soldiers down below say is Commander Pixis. She watches as Armin then collapses to the floor, teary-eyed from relief and the tension suffocating her recedes. She looks to Reiner and Bertolt—they appear as relieved as her but whether it is because the trio in front of them are now safe or that they didn't need to expose themselves yet to retrieve Eren, Annie isn't sure.

But she is different from her fellow Warriors again, Annie's gut seizes from realizing so. Her aim wasn't only to grab Eren who can easily heal his wounds.

Her target was to save Armin first.


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter has sensitive subject matter/imagery so I'm wondering if this can still be considered "Teen" at this point but seeing how graphic SNK has been and the topics it has brought up, I figure this is nothing any of you are already used to seeing.**

**Idk, you let me know as I'm not the best judge.**

* * *

Annie doesn't have the luxury of passing out in Bertolt's arms this time. Here in this moment, she sees everything.

Streaks of blood paint building walls and ripped bodies line the city streets but neither the horror around her or the translucent wads filled with human remains keep Annie rooted to where she stands now.

"Just one more block, just one more block, just one more block…" Springer recited to himself two hours ago. "Almost done. _Almost done._"

Neither Annie or Armin next to him respond. There's no words of comfort Annie can offer him so she maintains her silence while Armin holds Springer's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

"It's here." Armin stopping in his tracks has the other two halting alongside him. "And...wow."

The street's pavement has been demolished by large Titan feet and most of the houses have either been completely destroyed or partially; looking for survivors in this wreck wasn't going to be easy. As the sky moves from mid-afternoon into the dimming light of early evening, each one of them strains their voices and muscles when lifting splintering wood or calling into piles of debris in hopes to hear feedback.

"Anybody here?" Armin calls loudly into a piled mess of broken wood and brick. "_Anyone?"_

The distant sound of fires roaring in the pyres and howl of blowing wind is all they hear. Like with all the other heaps of shredded wood, they hear nothing and see no movement.

A deep, heavy sigh blows out of Armin. "Let's keep searching then..."

The last home on the city block has half the wall of their first story broken into and despite this area being deemed secure, a caution birthed from the past 24 hours has the trio moving toward the house slowly, observing closely. They carefully walk into the gap in the wall, leading them into the kitchen area and immediately, they scan the long, pantry cabinets and other spots big enough to house hiding children or adults.

Once more, no survivors are found.

Wood boards creak and groan as the group walks through the threshold leading into the living room and upon entry, all of them stand still. All knowledge of breathing is lost and the middle of Annie's mouth parts.

Three adults hang from the beams of the ceiling and eyes which are lifeless and void of color stare back at the three cadets. Dining table chairs are toppled under their feet and their lopsided necks are broken and purpled. Two of them couldn't be more than thirty— the other clearly being an elder—and all of them dangle and sway above the ground.

"This place was infested with Titans…" Armin theorizes, anxiety riddling his usual calm timbre. "It's possible in order to dodge being eaten, all of them…"

"O-Oh _fuck." _Springer breathes out like a strangled gasp, a breathy thickness Annie isn't used to hearing coating his words. "Whatever you do, _don't_ look at sofa."

Curiosity can be a stupid human trait and Armin and Annie turn toward the circle of furniture at the far end of the room.

The bodies of two children lay on seat cushions drenched in red. Their fronts are aimed at the sofa's backrests and the backs of a shaggy-haired and pig-tailed head are opened. A hunting rifle and pistol have been discarded on the floor with a small, empty ammo box resting alongside them.

"They shot them." Springer manages to say through trembling lips. "These animals _shot _their own kids before they— "

"They mercy-killed them." Armin finishes with downcast eyes. "They must have thought they would all be eaten and they didn't want the children to suffer."

"B-But they could have made it. Other parties found some survivors! It was a few but some made it!"

"...People will resort to the worst things when they feel trapped." Armin answers gravely, his voice cracking. "Let's...let's just put them all to rest. Okay?"

Annie doesn't add to the conversation or move. She's held to where she stands, her focus chained to the bodies dangling from makeshift nooses.

The house's broken wall allows in air from the outside—a singed, ashy breeze which is polluted with the smell of civilians and their fellow teammates. Her head pulsates like she's been struck in the face and the black muck of advancing fatigue wriggles at the edges of Annie's vision. Lightheadedness sways her a little and her breathing becomes unsteady, near hyperventilating.

"Annie?" Armin calls out to her.

Her neck flinches to the side from Armin's voice calling her back. Her head rush is persistent but she fights off the worst of her agony, digs crescents into her palms to keep her standing. As Armin makes his way toward her, she moves forward mechanically and picks up a fallen chair, places each one upright so they can cut the bodies down.

They shoot up the flare for assistance and one by one, they carry the family outside—where sooty death imitates falling snow and the scent of bitter decay invades the nostrils. They store the family in a wagon the medical team has brought and as the group returns to the others, Annie's breathing is strained and sight becomes as wavy as air on a hot summer day. From the raging fires feasting on flesh and bone to the sharp cries of the orphaned and widowed, everything is too familiar. The sounds, the sight—god, the _smell. _

She can't breathe. There's a rock in her throat and a spiky pain in her gut. It's too much—everything around her is too _much—_and every time Annie sucks in air in an attempt to breathe, the bodies burning in the pyres poisons the air, taints her sense of taste and smell.

The burning in Annie's throat grows until she can no longer keep down the sensation. When she manages to sneak away and exertion decides she's run far enough—she's now completely and utterly alone—Annie vomits in the corner of an empty street.

A flash of trauma stabs her temples and the memory of the burning diner in Liberio bubbles back up to the surface. Flesh had been charred then too as Tommy guns sprayed bullets into the streets of fleeing civilians and fire scorched homes and burned alive the families within the diner. Annie puts her arms around herself, like Father is holding her again, can carry her away from this flurry of a childhood terror speeding through her mind; agonized screams claw at her eardrums, glassy eyes from black-flecked bodies hanged by a noose lock in on her and blood spills into street cracks. Everything is _back _and _she _helped bring this carnage here.

A migraine with the ferocity of sharp glass sinking into her temples pumps the image of Mina's half-eaten head, another throb shoves the memory of Marco when arcs of red flew when a Titan jaw closed around his body. Tears bud at the ends of her eyes but not before another wave of nausea is spread over the city streets.

There is no blame to shift this on but her. She willingly followed Reiner's orders each time they broke the walls and for so many years, she did whatever she had to in order to meet her goal—to make her point—just like Reiner wanted her to do, just like the Marleyan gangsters did to show contempt for Eldian heritage; even the drug dealer from the forest, a man she despised and saw guilty enough to kill, had motive to kill for a drug-trafficking headquarters.

By any means necessary to reach the end goal—to make their point—all of them made their choice and there is a price to pay. After all they have done—what _she _has done—this mental torture is what she has rightfully earned.

A hand settles on her back and as quick as the soft warmth came, it retracts when Annie twists around but not before she grabs the unsuspecting wrist.

Arlert stands behind her, his face sweaty and etched with concern. He must have chased after her when the bile burning in her throat couldn't be held down any longer. His fingers twitch in her grip—possibly from how tight she holds him—but he smiles comfortingly nonetheless.

"Get it all out of your system, Annie." Armin gently encourages. He places his hand over the clutch she has on him and squeezes so tenderly, her heart quivers. "It's ok."

She wipes off her face with a mangy sleeve and croaks out, "Armin…"

Her heart stops and his eyebrows launch up his forehead—it's the first time she's ever addressed him by name.

Eyes which comforted her on lonely nights never leave her and Armin's hold is so foreignly soft, the hand gripping his wrist relaxes and falls away. He's only just passionately defended himself and his friends from being sentenced to death by cannon fire and now he's out here helping move the bodies of his dead comrades, attempting to comfort her when this life and the world tortures her.

For _fuck's_ sake. Why doesn't he just grow wings already? She's already convinced he's nearly as pure as a saint.

"Here," Armin picks up the waterskin hanging from his belt and hands it to her. "There's enough left to clear out your mouth. I used up some of mine for the same thing."

She snatches the skin without a fight and chugs, swirls the pungent nastiness of bile off her cheeks and tongue before spitting it out and does it three more times. A storm of blood and cries and crisp bodies still rampages inside her but with Armin here, the intensity has died down a fraction. She clenches her eyes to force more images away but her mind throbs with such a strong, knife-like pain, a pained groan leaves her.

"I can take you to the infirmary." Armin offers, his voice full of worry. "You don't have to stay here if it's too much."

"Don't..." She answers breathily.

"Okay. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can help with then?" Lines grow between his thick brows as he inspects her face. "You're so pale and you look feverish, Annie."

He isn't wrong. A cold sweat coats her skin and her overactive brain has phantom sledgehammers repeatedly slamming into each temple. The only thing distracting her panic is remembering how Armin felt against her, how the cool peace and strong will power in his soul weeded into her marrow and consciousness, helped her feel so _safe_. She wants to feel the same way again, wants these sins and memories which are raw and fresh in her head to go away, and her lips tingle from the thought.

_"How long do I have?" _She ponders mentally._ "How long will it be before you come to hate me too, just like I've hated so many?"_

"There's something you can do..." Annie mumbles before she can stop the words. "If you _really _want to help me, that is."

Long strands of wheat-blond bounce from his nod. "Absolutely I do. What do you need?"

Rather than answer, Annie grabs and yanks on his wrist, leading him down the blood-stained path.

* * *

They're too far from the group for Armin's comfort now. The sun is setting and as much as he'd like to help Annie, he doesn't want to worry their friends either. Armin's body thrums from a plague of fatigue and unwanted memories but he fights them all, even while he's still in the dark on Annie's intentions.

"Annie," Armin questions after five minutes of walking. "Annie—_ow. _Where are we going?"

"We need to be alone." Is her curt response as he's pulled behind her.

His lungs could blow up from what she just said and before he can babble out another question, Annie tugs on his wrist and bursts into one of the empty houses which was miraculously kept whole. She charges in and he scrambles behind her.

"Annie," Armin broaches carefully. He knows she's fragile right now and he must choose his words wisely. "I won't ever mind when it comes to helping you. I just want to let you know that we're a bit far from— "

A sharp hiss rings out between his teeth. She crushes his wrist in an iron grip and he swears his arm could be tugged out of his shoulder-socket from how hard she keeps tugging him forward.

"Just follow me." She growls in a low, deep tone, a sound he's never heard her make before. "Forget everyone else."

They go into a room on the second level, one where both wood-window covers are closed and a sliver of evening's yellow and orange between the boards is the only light breathed into the room.

His blood rushes into his wrist from being released and when Annie shoves her hands into his chest, a quick outcry leaves Armin. His back meets a bed's springy surface and when he tries to rise, Annie straddles him, hovers over him and keeps his body trapped below her just like in their training.

The agony of suspense widens Armin's eyes, "Wha—?"

She grabs his shirt collars, yanks Armin up and crushes her chapped, warm lips against his. A tiny, choked noise of surprise leaves him. The kiss is awkward and her teeth clack against his from pressing too hard—to his chagrin, there is a _tiny _remainder of vomit taste too—but there's a soothing warmth in their connection. Her lips move and he follows, a fuzziness filling his brain meanwhile and from the inside of his head to the tips of the toes curling in his boots, his body feels weightless, like he's floating; kissing her is a thousand-times better than he ever dreamed.

When they part for breath, Annie's cheeks are flushed and yellow-lashed eyes are heavy-lidded. Her light blue eyes are hazy, dilated and Armin is awestruck, can't tear his wide eyes away from watching her.

An impatient huff leaves her. She shoves him down into the bed in time with her chasing him, slamming her lips against his again. Her jaw moves up and down far too quickly for him to predict her movements—worsens the pacing of his breathing even as he strains to keep up—but both of them learn quickly. Her thumbs rest on his jawline and he gains the courage to gently cup the back of her head, keeping her steady against him while his fingers take in how soft and silky her skin and hair is. As their lips slant over each other and hot breath tickles their noses, Armin breathes in Annie's scent, feels all of what she is engulf him—the salty perspiration of her hard work and vigor to an earthy scent filled with all the mystery and intrigue of the deep-wooded forests; there's even a spicy-sweet flavor of her—a texture which suits Annie so well.

Annie presses into Armin slower but much harder now, more feral, like he had kicked a wild beast's cage and now its nibbling at his lower lip and stealing his air for revenge. He shakes and he knows this static sensation along his nerves is not born from fear.

"We both don't have to feel this way." She moves her lips against his, her voice so smoky and husky, Armin flinches. "We can make it go away...and I can show you how."

His searing skin is screaming but an unsure noise rumbles the back of his throat. His hand once on her nape falls to rest on her hip and he jerks when a feminine hand glides down the middle of his buttoned-up shirt.

"I'm surprised even. I knew you had backbone but who'd have thought a stammering runt like you could stand up to the Military Police and speak so passionately?" He sucks in a sharp breath when wet lips peck behind his ear. "I wonder what _else _you're passionate about."

He clenches her hip anxiously but his whirling mind quiets his tongue, even as she rains kisses over him.

Everything she does is straight out of his fantasies and _undoubtedly, _he is drawn to her—can't stop thinking about her—but as Annie's wayward hands roam over his arms in an attempt to coax him toward persuasion, a twister of emotions wreaks havoc in him.

This girl isn't the level-headed Annie he's come to care so much for. He saw the horror on her face—traumatized crystal quaking in her sockets when they found the hanged bodies—watched as Annie hurled and stared at him with uncharacteristically bleary eyes. She also touches him willingly even though she's never wanted his touch before. Now she's kissing his cheeks and neck in time with each cracked whisper, egging his masculinity on, her hands clawing over him like she's eager to crack him open. Armin's blood boils so hotly, his skin could burn through the cotton and when Annie's hands travel down, his gut twists _so hard._

He can't do this.

Armin's arms shoot up and he pulls her down into a ferociously tight hug. She wriggles against him and with the arms trapped against his chest, she pounds fists down like he's a drum, conjuring polka dots of pain which blot his vision from every strike. He has to use his legs to chain hers down all while her hoarse voice orders him to let her go but Armin doesn't obey. He keeps holding her crushingly, punishing, like he can't get her close enough, like both of them will merge with the mattress if he keeps hanging on and he _has _to hang on.

He'll damage what little trust they forged if he gives in to her now, leave them on more awkward grounds than they are already on and Armin can't bear doing such a thing to her. This frightened, fractured girl doesn't know any way to make the pain stop, just like he doesn't, but this isn't a path he's willing to take—this _can't _happen this way.

Armin stays trapped between the bed and a fighting Annie, clenching his teeth from her hits and ignoring obscenities she—hopefully—doesn't mean, until finally, she stops, lays still atop him. A pregnant pause befell them and after ten seconds of suffocating silence, Annie's shoulders are the first to flinch. They shake three more times before snuffling and sobs pour into Armin's chest. Her cries are so uncomfortably quiet—like she's trained herself to do this silently— but her body shakes as violently as an animal kept out in the freezing cold and Armin can almost hear his heart shatter, horrified someone so immovable has become so vulnerable and frail. His arms surround Annie so much more tightly—rests his cheek on top of her head— and he wants to squeeze all of her worries away, hopes this one small thing he can do helps her right now.

How much time passes, Armin isn't sure but the room is pitch-dark when Annie's body stops quaking. She lays still again and Armin doesn't move. Her abdomen breathing against his steadily becomes deeper, calmer, and he soon hears small snoozes breathing out of her. She's fallen asleep and he doesn't dare unsettle her. He decides to let her rest in his arms for another hour or so, around the time they need to return to their living quarters.

When she mumbles something in her sleep, his ear creeps in closer.

Armin wonders if he listens and hopes hard enough, she'll say his name again.

* * *

A paranoia which gnawed like belligerent termites in his mind has returned.

The Colossus is back.

How? And most importantly,_ why_?

Armin silently questions this as lines of cadets surround him. He had hoped for more time to prepare for this day—to learn more about Titans from the Scouts like he planned—but once again, life has thrown him a challenging hand. This pile of scared children who reek of fear and sweat is all the world has against the threat of Titans and the further depletion of resources.

All who wish to join another regiment are dismissed first and eyes crawl over everyone who leaves. All Armin sees or focuses on is the back of Annie's hair-tied head as she walks away. They still haven't talked about what happened; just like their night at the pond, she ran off too quickly for him to catch and she did the same after she woke up on him, has actively avoided him since. Now she'll be living behind _more _walls and he's tired of the uncertainty, needs to know at least _one _of the thoughts which are bouncing around in her head.

When Erwin—his new commander—orders everyone to offer the hearts, Armin thumps the hand against his chest fiercely, hoping the drum-like strike will ripple away the fear knotting in his chest and shaking his knees.

He's scared for what's to come and scared for all he and his friends are about to endure.

* * *

Armin sprints as fast as he can.

By the time Armin reached the woman's barracks, he was told Annie had already gone to the end of the campgrounds to be escorted into the Inner District. She slipped out of his sights again and he will _not _let her get away a third time. He's still tense and everything in his head is still a jumble but she's a comfort he can't find in his other friends; her concise and firm nature cuts through his babbling and "bullshit" as she so bluntly puts it. It's her own language of telling him to think more calmly, don't let his nerves get the best of him and just do it rather than worry and it _helps, _makes him feel more confident and stronger.

None of it makes any sense to him; Eren and Mikasa ignite his motivation to become stronger too—make him _want _to be better—but something about Annie impels him to do all of those things and as he perseveres or fails, he feels no sting of inferiority, a stabbing pain he is ashamed to associate with Eren or Mikasa should they see him fail or offer to help. Like him, Annie's smaller than the others but such odds don't keep her away from being the best, _didn't _stop her from showing everyone why she earned her spot in the Top Ten. Annie _inspires_ him and he doesn't want to lose her so soon.

He feels like he's breathing in needles from how hard he has been running. In the distance, he sees a figure which does not grow in height as he sprints forward. The corners of his lips spring up.

_"Annie!" _He calls out.

The petite girl's head whips around and his observant eyes catch how her stature tenses at seeing him. She was avoiding him like he assumed.

He jogs up to her and pants out wheezily, "Leaving already?"

"...Yes." She responds in a taut tone.

"Without saying goodbye?"

"...I figured you wouldn't want me to."

"You're usually right but not this time. I wish you did come say goodbye." He gulps in another breath and lets the genuine pain he feels carve his face. "Why didn't you? That...that hurt, Annie."

She stares at him mutely with sleep-deprived eyes, the emotions mixing in them unreadable. Murky blue can't hold his own curious ones for too long and Annie's head lowers.

"I'm sorry about earlier." Annie gets to the meat of the issue quicker than he expected. "For pushing you down the other night too. That wasn't right of me, especially after everything that's happened." Her voice turns quiet as she murmurs, "I don't know what came over me…and I thought you wouldn't want to see me afterwards." Her eyes roll up and down him. "Seeing as how you're here, clearly I'm wrong."

"You don't need to apologize for that." He reassures her. "None of us knew how to react and after what we went through...we'd do anything if we could drown out what we saw."

He had more questions and words planned but his unintentional innuendo twists his tongue—turns his face into a hot furnace and _he wants to die—_but Annie doesn't look to have caught his misplaced word, focuses on the dirt road instead.

His curiosity ventures as to why she chose _him_ of all people to do _that _with, however. Reiner and Bertolt are much more handsome—taller and bursting with muscle too. Even Jean and Eren caught the eye of the girls in their regiment. He wonders if he can weasel out another explanation from her, understand why before she leaves.

"But...if you ever need someone to talk to about it..." He starts.

"No," She answers crisply. "I don't."

Too on the nose. He tries another method then, a question which has been eating at his nerves.

"Okay but...we're still friends, right?" It's a genuine worry of his but never has saying that word to Annie felt as painful as it does right now.

The short girl visibly hesitates. "If that's what you consider us to be then I can't stop you from what you feel."

Disappointment pricks his chest. He had hoped for an acceptance of the title of friends at _least_, or dare he truly speak his mind, wish she'd say they were something much more but he truly would be chasing a fool's dream then.

"I understand. I guess what I'm trying to get at is this is okay, right?" His hand motions to his chest before directing itself to her afterward. "_We're _ok...right?"

Clouded ice-blue are focused on his hand for seconds which speed up Armin's heart-rate then gravitate up to his face.

"...We're fine." She answers softly.

An anxiety of what felt like a hundred pounds sitting on his chest evaporates and Armin sighs deeply, so utterly relieved he rests his hands on his knees. He was so on edge in waiting for her answer, he didn't even see the large, wooden carriage pull up and park next to them.

"Evening." The bearded driver tips his dark blue cap. "Leonhardt?"

"Here." Annie raises her hand.

"I've come to take you into the city." He looks around them and along the street. "Well, I'll be. You're actually the only one?"

"Yes."

"Huh...odd. There's always exactly 10 kids from each division when I bring troops to Stohess." The thick man shrugs. "Guess you get a carriage all to yourself kid. Hop in."

He's right. Annie is the only one of the entire southern division who leaves for the Inner District today and suddenly—remembering how in some ways she's just like him—Armin can sense the depth of her loneliness right now, even if her face doesn't show it.

"I'll write to you." He chirps next to her. "I can't promise how often it will be but I can promise that I will. Just because you're leaving doesn't mean we can't stay in touch."

"You don't need to burden yourself with that."

"It isn't a burden for friends." He chuckles with candid fondness. "For so many years, I got to spend time with everyone every day. Now that some of us are splitting up...I'm sadder than I thought I'd be." He sticks out his hand. "Keep in touch. I'll miss training with you."

Her lips press into a thin line, telling Armin she's reluctant but his steady hand remains extended. She then takes his hand and he shakes it firmly and unconsciously, his thumb runs over her knuckles, like it was the most natural response for him to soothe her hesitance. Her grip tenses in his hand but she doesn't shy away; to his surprise, she returns the motion with a tight squeeze.

"Stay out of danger." Annie's hand falls away and she directs herself toward the carriage. "You're not allowed to die."

He smiles and laughs brightly, "With that kind of motivation, I feel impervious then."

"Just don't be stupid like Yeager and think you actually _are_." She takes the door handle and Armin sees traces of genuine concern fill her face. "Just survive."

She shuts the carriage door and Armin remains on the side of the road until the transport is swallowed whole by the green of the forest.

* * *

Nothing but petty theft and minor drug offenses happen in the section of Stohess they monitor so daily patrolling is pointless in Annie's mind, but to keep the status quo, she drags herself along like the others do. She walks through a city square full of passersby and street merchants and the noise is so overwhelmingly loud and annoying, the urge to don her hoodie grows.

"Check it out." The roommate Annie had no choice in getting walks next to her, her trademark sneer on and only leaving the brunette's face in sleep. "Tall, strong, and handsome at 3 o'clock."

Annie follows the girl's interested finger. The trio of men are certainly tall, handsome in their fit bodies and chiseled looks, and appear fairly wealthy.

"And?" Annie answers disinterestedly.

"What do you _mean _and? Just look at him and his group of friends! They're _gorgeous."_

"If you say so."

"Ah, you play the role of the disinterested observer, don't you?" The nosy girl speculates. "I bet you don't _want_ to say but you keep the details of how you would climb those guys like a tree in your head. _I'll _be brave for you and actually admit it."

"Is this the kind of useless nonsense women ramble about?" The bowl-cut cadet to Annie's right speaks. "If so, keep your observations to yourself, Hitch. No one is interested."

"So harsh." Dreyse pouts with hands on her hips. "Just because you're undesirable to most women doesn't mean you should take your frustration out on me_, _Marlowe_._ Maybe not having a stupid bowl cut would make more women ogle you."

"I didn't come here to woo women." He responds sternly. "I came here to work unlike you."

"Oh-ho, _great. _I've got Cadet Serious and Ms. One Expression on my daily patrol now. You do realize that because of how bland you two are I _have _to talk about my surroundings? I'll die of boredom if I don't!"

"Sounds like it's your problem." Annie chimes in.

Dreyse crosses her arms in child-like frustration. "And here I was going to offer you to go on a shopping spree with me. Bummer for you and your drab closet."

Annie tucks hair behind her ear, ignoring the other girl, and the three continue on with their patrol.

Her fashionista roommate isn't incorrect. Those men were attractive and fit the description of men the girls from her barracks aspired to marry—tall, good-looking, built firmly; more importantly to some, they had money. Everything in their physical appearance Annie agrees is desirable but she isn't interested in any of them, finds herself thinking of someone else.

When they reach their quarters for the night, her bunkmate collapses into bed while Annie lays awake in the bottom bunk. Once Annie hears audible snores from her roommate, she pulls out a letter from under her pillow, looks hard into the words to decipher clues Reiner puts down for her, of how Yeager is practicing Titan shifting in an undisclosed location.

She reads the letter three times—squints harder at the words on each attempt—and to Annie's dismay, she can't remember what she just read, can't focus. Her mind keeps drifting to what Hitch said earlier, to when her brain was switched off and instinct guided her. Annie's palms remember how Armin may be lean and shorter than the other men, but there is muscle hiding beneath his sleeves; there's strength in his chin when he fought to keep up with her and his hands—though appearing soft and a little girlish—have a tight grip from clutching metal sword-handles, a grip which she bet could bruise.

And then there's just the memory of _him. _A feature so simple as his smell reminds Annie of less appreciated things—soft rain, the pleasant sizzle of sunshine; sappily enough, he reminds her of the lime candy he so thoughtfully gifted her too—sweet in nature with undertones of sour and bitter for his clever mind. Armin takes the form of objects which ease her and she wants to be wrapped in those things, be warm and secure in all he is.

_"When do you not know what to do, Annie?" _Her memory repeats.

_"You're not anything of those things you say you are! You're pretty too not generic! _

_"You're _so kind, _Annie."_

Annie's trembling hands crush the ends of the letter she holds. Molten, prickly feelings bubble in her veins and Annie bites the corner of her lip.

Armin doesn't fit the description of a man most girls rave about but he's ensnared her attention all the same. He _is _handsome—but much like his self-esteem—they haven't come to full fruition yet and girls as shallow as Hitch or those from Annie's old barracks won't notice until it's too late. She then remembers the strong curve of his jaw under her hand, how his body felt under hers, how determined eyes were so disappointed when he confronted her.

Annie gets out of bed. She sits at her desk and gets her materials to begin writing a letter, but not one in response to her fellow Warrior; this letter detailing this mundane place is for Armin only and she invites him to come visit her.

* * *

**A/N Note: Annie looked pretty exhausted when they broke the first wall so I wondered if she saw the devastation as vividly as Reiner or Bertolt did. Isayama pls explain soon.**

**And Armin is such a good boy awk ;w;**

Songs listened to for this chapter:  
Moment's Respite-Vindsvept  
All Gone-Last of Us  
Season Unending-Vindsvept


	13. Chapter 13

***sigh* School is back in session. T_T I work too so please bear with me with delayed updates. I have the next few chapters mostly plotted out, now it's just finding the time. I know I've been slow on building this so thank you all for your patience and for sticking it out with me to this point. :) You're the best! **

**I also went back and made a few edits on past chapters for grammar/shaving down some sentences. **

**Moreover, I want to give a collective thank you for the feedback on the last chapter! My writings can be a bit morbid so I was genuinely nervous on posting it and I'm glad it was well received! Please don't stop the feedback, even if it's constructive criticism. ;D **

**I've talked your ear off long enough so hereeee we go!**

* * *

To say days without Annie were hard is a bit _too _dead on for how Armin feels.

During the day he looks to the sunny, cloud-spilled sky, scans over the dandelions littering the field Eren trains in and he's reminded of Annie. He wonders if she's enjoying her time as an MP; she hasn't responded to his letters asking if she is yet and frankly, he's not so confident she'll answer him. Armin exhales deeply.

He longs to see her again. The hat she gave him—the only tangible thing which proves Annie even exists—is kept at his bedside and when the moon is at its highest point, as he's staring into the stitches of woven straw and memories spin in his head, his night becomes—how his well-word crafting mind chooses to describe—especially...tough_. _

"_I-I think I'm in love with her." Armin was next to Jean when Thomas confessed this about Mina. "I've never felt this way and the way she makes me feel...I get lightheaded and my body gets so warm and _that _gets worse and I don't want it to! I... I just…it's been going on for a while now and I can't take being quiet anymore."_

"_Why don't you tell her how you feel then?" Armin suggested kindly. "We'll have to clean up how you're going to communicate how you feel about her though. Those last few parts will make her uncomfortable..."_

"_He shouldn't have to tell her anything because he is _not _in love with her." Jean harshly assured Armin and their then alive friend. "You're just getting antsy like all guys do. Do yourself a favor and go whack off. I guarantee you that if she isn't in your head after you have all that energy out, you were never actually interested in her in the first place."_

_Armin squirmed in his seat and leaned over to quietly stress, _"Jean, this is an issue which could end very messily if Thomas doesn't approach this right. It's private and you shouldn't bring _that _topic up in the mess hall.._.__" Embarrassed heat smoldered Armin's cheeks. His mind drifted to the same place Jean's does, his face splitting from a sneer and snickered the same tune of mischief Connie and Sasha make. "I-I'm serious!"_

"_For someone so smart, you know how to walk right into innuendo traps." Jean cackled. He looked back to their nervous teammate. "Don't worry, Thomas. We won't say anything about this. We know this is a long, hard issue you've been dealing with that—like Armin said—could have ended up very messy if you took care of it on your own." _

"Jean!_" Armin scolded. _

"_What?! I'm _sympathizing _with him. Where is _your _mind going, Armin?!"_

"_...Can we just stop talking about this please?" Thomas interjected, his tone humiliated and head bowed. "This conversation is _really _uncomfortable…"_

"_See? Now you made him feel uncomfortable." Jean accused Armin with a straight face._

"_I did no such thing!" _

"_Sssh!" Thomas shot a finger to his lips when Mina and Annie entered the building. Once the two girls sat at a table at the other end of the room, he whispered, "Okay, I'll take your advice but how do you know that actually works, Jean?" Thomas raised a challenging brow. "I've never seen you with a girlfriend."_

_Jean flashed Thomas a bared teeth frown. His eyes flitted about the room and Armin knew he was making sure Mikasa wasn't near. "Just shut up and do it. _Trust me_. It works."_

To add to his ever-growing shame, Armin listened too and took Jean's advice...and Annie still consumes every waking thought.

His intrigue started a couple years ago with innocent things—what it would be like to go on walks with her in a flower-riddled park or how her hair looked down. She was as cagey then as she is now and he'd have taken up the task of using a million pickaxes against the wall to make a hole if it meant seeing or hearing anything she has stored in her head, enlighten him with anything he doesn't know about her; _at least _knowing her favorite color would be nice.

Then he grew older and a sensation he always had shifted into something utterly unbearable.

Back then, this maddening itch was distracting enough when she was putting him in grapple holds and her smooth hands were crushing his bones rather than melting them. Now he has the image of her hovering over him through heavy-lidded eyes. Where her soft lips and hands landed sting like he has chicken pox—glued and radiating everywhere on his skin— and Armin feels like a new gate inside him has opened, leaving him to deal with this mind-consuming ache, this parasite which overwhelms every muscle and invades every thought so intensely, he feels to have ended up in a whole new level of _hell. _

"You need to be more like Yeager and spill what's on your mind." Jean addresses from across the dining table. "What's eating you?"

"Probably a stomach ache from the gruel…" Connie mumbles at his spoonful of clumpy grey. "I would bet money on how the Training Regiment's recipe is more flavorful than the Survey Corps's..."

Jean reciprocates Connie's input with a grunt but his eyes are fixed on their fellow Scout who keeps his head low. "Come on, Armin. We're your teammates so cough it up. We should know if you can't shake something on your mind."

"Honestly, what isn't on my mind?" Armin side-steps, his speech level faint.

"Knock it off with your fancy-foot dancing around my question. You're more distracted than usual lately."

Like in the previous months, Armin's peripherals catch a see-through figure of Annie sitting across the room, her hooded eyes sneakily aimed on him before fleeing away when his head would turn. Armin tries to focus on his tasteless food.

"I'm just tired and there's a lot of thoughts I need to sift through." Armin acknowledges but doesn't go into detail. He smiles weakly. "I'm fine."

Visible irritation crinkles Jean's face and Armin knows his taller comrade doesn't believe him. His seriousness then morphs into a one-sided mouth curl. "Yeah, me too. Starting with it being even _worse_ here than I thought. Eren sold the Survey Corp as an honorable lifestyle but it gives us the same crap food and living quarters as training did as well as a 99 percent rate to die. Go figure." Armin pierces a boiled potato with his fork and eats it as Jean continues, "We may as well be back in training at this rate. There's still boring classes and note-taking. The one-upside is Leonhardt isn't here to pummel any of us into the floor anymore. That got tiring _quick_. You and Captain-Big-Mouth always seemed to be getting the worst of it too."

A flicker of sharp defensiveness ignites in Armin's chest and he says carefully, "It wasn't all bad…"

"Getting thrown into the dirt, being given black-eyes, and put into the infirmary wasn't all bad?" Jean repeats incredulously. "It was like she was out to get you two."

"All it ever was is training. How she fought Eren and I was no different than she did with you or anyone else on the field."

"Looked more like she had a vendetta, if you ask me."

"Jean...stop." Connie urges, sounding guilty. "Let's give Annie a break. She saved both of our lives."

Armin's head lifts in surprise. He knew she saved Connie but not Jean. "She did?"

Jean's pinched nose fidgets about his face. "Yeah, yeah, fine. So she isn't completely soulless and her heart grew two sizes that day. Whoop Dee Doo. Still kind of screwed up how hard she went at people less coordinated than her though."

"It's just her teaching style to get someone to learn." Armin argues tonelessly. "Just how she is. She'll view it as insulting if someone tried to suppress their strength to her so she doesn't hold back to anyone else."

Jean's neck bends to the side. "How would you know all of that? She hardly talked to anybody."

_Because I like her and actually tried to get to know her. _His brain answers.

He swallows, offers a smile to his friends instead and taps his spoon on his temple. "Strategist, remember? I see things before you do and she showed me that by how she fights. Like I said, she spreads how she treats everyone evenly, both in behavior and fighting. That's the most of what I've got though."

Both Connie and Jean glance at each other and quickly make the relenting face and shrug of someone convinced.

Armin doesn't like talking about his personal knowledge—let alone personal interest—of Annie out loud so he shifts to, "I'm okay guys, really. My mind has just been preoccupied with a lot. From the Colossus coming back but not the Armored. How we need to go beyond the walls soon, the fact that Eren can transform into a Titan..._Eren…"_

"Gah," Jean groans and leans back a little in his seat. "Screw it, forget I brought up any of this. I keep forgetting how important that reckless idiot is to you." Silence falls over him. "My bad."

Armin's brows rise high on his forehead. It's a minor change but Jean's empathy has become more visible since Marco died, exposes shreds of sympathy when he hears someone else worrying. Armin extends to him an appreciative nod and a hope that Jean's inner sadness will be mended. He can't imagine losing such an important person, if it had been Eren or Mikasa who died...or Annie.

He shivers from the mere thought.

"If it gets to be too much, you know who to come to." Jean puts forward and stands up with his empty plate. "As a team, we need to know if we can help you."

"You can come to me too, Armin." Connie is next to stand up, an uplifting smile brightening his face. "We have to stick together more than ever now and you've helped me out a lot. I'll do the same for you! So if you need us, don't hesitate to come find us."

With his sincere thank you to them and a shut of a creaky wood door, Armin is left alone again; he hasn't been doing well when he is alone. He was as useless and motionless as a rock when a Titan ate Eren, and now, he must work past a lifetime habit of feeling worthless to keep his friends safe. His nerves are frayed, a brick of lead is weighing down his stomach, and Armin wishes Annie was here to help calm him.

The logic in him still struggles to understand why her presence is so relaxing; she hasn't really said anything nice to him—he can't remember any nice thing she's said about anyone, really. Then his chest flares with warmth at remembering her concern when they decided to join the Scouts, how quick she was to help him and others in need based off their early days together and her rush to save Connie, now even Jean. Through her actions alone he knows Annie cares, she's beyond reliable, she's smart, and her sweet, rare smile has a power to rob him of all other worries tormenting him.

Armin rubs his hands over his face, a sigh blowing through his fingers.

But less selfishly, he's glad she is far away from here. There's too much mystery flying around them and Eren and Mikasa are already in the crosshairs of mortal danger; if Annie was with them in this mayhem too...

"Armin," He looks up from his empty plate and finds Mikasa standing beside him, donned in the Survey Corp's green cape. She holds up a sealed, yellow envelope. "Letter for you."

* * *

"So, who's this guy who keeps sending you mail?" Hitch asks as she pulls one of her dresses over her head. "And I _know _it's a guy. You wouldn't be going out of your way to hide your letters if it wasn't."

Annie blinks at her probing roommate. "Just someone from my old regiment." She dares not say _which _person either as both Reiner and Armin have been sending her letters lately.

"Are they cute?"

"I don't see why that's relevant."

"I think you should have them visit you if they're cute or even if it's just a guy. You're too wound up for your own good."

"Mm."

"I mean look at this." Hitch throws open the closed curtains of their room, exposing the blazing yellow and orange lights from celebratory lanterns and the wind whipping colorful banners. "You won't even attend a festival outside your own living quarters on the night before our day off. If that's not sad, I don't know what is."

"I don't preach to you on how to use your day off so don't preach to me." Annie responds flatly. "It's my time and I'll do what I want with it."

A little huffing noise from the back of the throat leaves Hitch. "Sure, whatever. All I'm saying is what might make you less mopey and more social is going outside to get some fresh air or dance a little. Oh, and probably getting laid would help you out a _lot_. Just grab a drink and a mask if your choice ends up being ugly. Even a newbie like you should know you don't have to look at them while you do it."

Annie shuts her eyes for a long moment. When she opens them, a series of rapid blinks follows. "If that gets you through _your _day, then you do that. Just don't bring your boy-toys here."

"I'm better at hiding my toys than you are to your letters." Hitch sneers. "Come on, Annie. You have to live a little! You got out of a piss-hole district and now you're where the good stuff is! But all you've done is linger around here or headquarters and it's sad_._" She bumps Annie's shoulder and reveals a snide yet encouraging smile. "Now, now, just like shopping, dancing on the street or in bed isn't anything to be scared of. You've got me and I can help turn you from drab to fab. I'll make you look so pretty, you'll snatch up a rich husband and be bailed out of working by the end of the year. It's every woman's dream."

"Don't equate my dreams with yours." Annie frowns minorly.

"_Sheesh. _Fine, Ms. No-Fun. Be cold and unsmiling for the rest of your life. _I'm _going out and won't be back for a couple of days." Hitch winks flirtatiously at her roommate. "Try not to be too sad while I'm away."

The faint shouts and singing from outside fills her room now rather than Hitch's snarky attitude. Annie is a little unnerved Hitch advised her to invite one of her pen pals, wonders if she has somehow been snooping about or reading her mail. She dismisses the thought immediately, knowing with her precautions, Hitch figuring out anything within those letters would be near impossible.

Annie's blood pushes fast and hot through her in anticipation of Armin arriving tomorrow. Like in training, he has snuck into everyday thoughts and dreams during her time here in Stohess and she notices she doesn't feel so empty when her mind holds the image of him, rather feels the desire to rekindle old embers of hobbies which could have grown and come to full bloom but duty snatched the chance away.

Her hand clenches and rubs up and down her slender arm. Even the press of him holding her is still there and if she focuses hard enough, a hard sternum caging a passionate spirit is her pillow again. Doing this is a bedtime ritual now—scares off nightmares hibernating in the shadows of Annie's room and mind until sleep takes her—and if this anxiety-releasing peace is what came with being a normal girl with regular feelings, Annie would grapple or strangle whatever she could to keep this calm Armin gives her...and _why _she would actually go so far to keep it confuses her.

Hugs and kisses were a pathetic expression of weakness, her younger self believed. Anyone who chose to reveal who they were most fond of deserved to lose them; mice who play no tricks against the cat will lose in the end, after all.

Then _he_ came and just the mention of Armin's name summons a salt, sea breeze on her face and a hot tingle on her palms. She's used to being a husk, not being so overcome with warring emotions, her body shakes, has to dig her fingers into her biceps to fight the intensity off. She can't even lie in her bed the same way after what she's done. His touch burns everywhere and no amount of self-attention or re-watching memories can replace him; she knows, she's _tried_ and wouldn't Hitch _love _to know such an intimate detail, but she'll never say. This creature coiling her muscles never craved to be near another person so badly and these weeks away from him have only made everything _worse. _

Annie opens her closet and outfits herself in the laced-up shirt and dark hoodie of her casual attire before walking out of her room. Always, she needs distractions and she needs to find another one. She has little time left in this place but she's feeling curious today, wants to browse around the festival and go wherever the wind takes her as Armin said dandelions like her do.

* * *

He's arrived in Stohess on the night before they are supposed to meet and the city is far livelier than he had expected. Stohess is certainly another world as the streets are clean and have masses of masked people dancing in large circles; even the horses painted a multitude of colors in the parade look more well fed than the Scouts themselves.

He really should be looking for an Inn but Armin looks about vendor stands for a gift—old habits do die hard. Maybe he should get something which matches Annie's eyes; no, no, her hair; _no. _The indecisive teenager chews on his thumbnail, struggles to nail down which feature of her he admires the most. And in what way would she prefer it be presented as? Jewelry? No, with how practical Annie is, she probably wouldn't care so he dismisses the first thought. Clothing maybe? No...Hm...he's already used his best ideas and struggles to come up with more.

As Armin pursues his mission of finding another gift for Annie, a lushed up man with a five-o-clock shadow stumbles out of a circle of dancing civilians. He teeters in front of Armin and quirks a judgmental brow.

"_-Hic_\- H-Hey boy, d-_hic_\- didn't you get the message?" The man garbles. "You're supposed to be -_hic_\- dancing not standing here!" The man speaks like there's a sock in his mouth so Armin politely smiles and shakes his head, feigning not to understand. The blurry-eyed man looks to the Wings of Freedom on his chest and Armin spots the horse of the MPs on the man's breast pocket. "O-Oh -_hic_\- a fellow service-man, are ya? And the Scouts too. _Ha._ Your life -_hic_\- m-must be shit." Armin _oofs_ when a hand shoves a red mask into his chest and winces from a clap on his back afterward. "On -_hic_\- the house! Now g-go have fun!"

The officer takes one long gulp of his bottle and stumbles to his group calling for him but he falls over on an unattended crate and crashes into a display of masks instead. The nest of MPs nearby bursts into laughter and funnily enough, so does the officer who sits in a pile of broken merchandise.

"Damn! I'm like a toddler walkin'-_hic_\- here!" He guffaws again and looks to an ash blond cadet. "Boris! Go fetch more gin my bottle is empty!" The officer pumps a shaky thumb Armin's way. "And get one for the pipsqueak too. He's got s-shit _-hic-_ luck so he'll need it."

Armin denies the offer when a boy his age hands him a bottle then takes the gin as a courtesy—and because a drunk officer who he doesn't trust is watching. He thanks them all and when all of the MPs chug their booze with clenched eyes, Armin darts away and leaves the bottle on a stand a couple blocks away for someone else to enjoy.

This atmosphere is too rowdy for him but Armin finds it in his heart to smile. These people are comfortable—celebrate an occasion so happily and without a care in the world—but a bitterness he could never quite squelch tightens his chest. He wonders if some of these people who dance and sing around him are the reason his grandfather and so many others were sacrificed, if the officers who relax and offered him a drink had a say or action in leading a flock of humans to slaughter.

What distracts him from having more morbid thoughts is when he passes by a fountain in the middle of the city square. Jesters juggle torches and colorful balls while performers display their tricks and body contortions, attracting many children and families. Two identical boys and a young girl are the loudest, weave around in the busy crowd and squeal as their two elder siblings chase after them. They're so carefree, Armin can't help but feel happy with them. Two adults who look as fond of the children as they are exhausted stand not far away and Armin determines they must be the parents. The older boy walks back to their family with his two brothers stored beneath his armpits while his sister holds the younger girl's hand. He considers this family lucky and Armin hopes he and his comrades can make it so many other families remain happy too, that _they _can have families just like all of these civilians have someday.

The steady beat of Armin's heart turns rapid. Someone else is staring at the same thing he is. Eyes he's so familiar with being lukewarm or unreadable are sad, look to have something which looks like yearning too.

He feels like a dog with two tails but Armin remembers to keep his composure—don't look too eager—and approach her calmly.

Armin steps toward her and he barely manages to not trip over his tongue when he says, "Annie?"

Alarm snaps the short girl's focus to Armin. She looks surprised at first until the cool indifference takes over her expression.

"You're here early." She clinically takes note.

His heart-melting happiness trembles with nervousness. "I only had one chance to take leave before they gave me another assignment so I took it. Honestly, I still thought I was going to be late." He laughs timidly and already, he can smell a heavy silence between them is on the horizon so he rushes to say, "What's that you got?"

Annie's serious expression flinches. They both look to the item she has slung over her shoulder. "Oh. This is just something I bought."

"Can I see it?" He cranes his neck to get a better look at a body of wood he's never seen before.

If slightly pursed lips and pink cheeks is Annie's version of being shy, Armin has been proven wrong; there _is _a way for her to look more beautiful. She pulls around an instrument the size of a violin only the body is shaped like a triangle.

"What is it?"

"Something weird. I think they called it a Balalaika." Annie takes out a tiny pick from the wooden stem of the instrument and glides the small triangle over the taut wires, a new sound sprouting from each strike. "It's one of the more oddly shaped instruments they play around here…but I like the sound of it."

The excited grin Armin has been holding down pulls higher. "Can you play something?"

Annie's brows flatten. "I've only just bought it, Arlert. What I just played is all I've got right now unless you want to hear what sounds like someone's pet dying."

"Oh...right. Well, I'm sure your dad would love to hear you play when you get more practice! Is he here yet?"

Cold he didn't expect creeps into Annie's eyes. "No. I'm too new to make the transfer request to the higher-ups. Bureaucratic crap and such." Annie tosses her head toward the mask in his hand. "What about you? What have you got there?"

"Oh!" Armin pulls up the mask he now sees is a red-horned devil. "An officer was feeling a little…happy tonight so he gave me this. This must be one of the scarier masks people wear."

He pulls the carved mask over his face and like a flash-flood, an idea moves his body before his mind can decide if it's okay. He claws his hands and raises them above his head with a dramatic roar, imitating a ferocious standing bear with his demon face.

Annie's unamused brows lift and chin pushes forward, like she's expecting something else to happen as he stands there stupidly. Armin's hands droop down to his sides. He lifts up the mask to idle over his forehead, his fingers nervously toying at the wooden edges.

"Yeah, I-uh," He clears his throat awkwardly. "I-I didn't think this mask looked very scary either. It just kind of makes you look silly really..."

His stomach plummets as a tiny smile quivers the side of Annie mouth. "No, I imagine you wouldn't find it scary. And you being silly wasn't...unentertaining."

A breathy chuckle leaves both of them in unison and Armin decides right then how he should just paint himself red already; every time he sees her, his face is always many degrees hotter and to make matters worse, _she's _showing signs of embarrassment too and it makes _him _blaze even hotter.

Armin has reached the end of all the small talk he can think of and before things between them turn odd again, he finds the courage to say, "I've really missed you, Annie." He pauses before unbridled joy lifts every feature on his face. "It's good to see you again."

The constant chill in Annie's gaze warmed, appearing a little surprised before she looks down.

"_Hey!" _A man barrels between the two with his posse close behind him. Armin hears Annie whisper, "Officer Waltz…?" as the man approaches a group dancing next to them. The officer grabs the man with a black eye mask and butcher's apron and tugs him until their noses are inches apart. "You dancing with my wife you _prick?!"_

The man in the black eye mask appears afraid and before the stammering fellow can answer, his accuser shoves him back and slams his knuckles into the masked man's cheek. A stocky man close by looks enraged—possibly the masked man's friend—and cracks a booze bottle over Waltz's head to which a member of the husband's group punches the man with the bottle.

All the men groan and the husband wipes off his face, his eyes full of fury as he spits, "So, you want to _fight _do you?!"

"Fight?!" A voice to the right frighteningly asks.

"Where?!" An eager person and more say.

"_Uh oh_." Armin lets out in alarm.

The group of men charge forward and with them, a chain reaction from the surrounding crowd follows. Punches and kicks fly, fits of laughter or pained grunts repeat everywhere, and losers fall to the floor.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Annie grudgingly mutters. "_We're _going to have to clean this up when this is done, not those high-ranking morons."

They are quickly getting caught in a circle of increasingly violent fighting and there are few windows open for them to steer clear. Armin's senses heighten as he announces, "We have to go. _Now_."

He grabs Annie's hand and pulls her away through an opening between the two crowds. He weaves to the left and a rotund man being thrown into a thin woman's flower stand has Armin stopping and the lady shrieking. Armin runs to the right and a line of wrestling cadets who sock each other in the sides or groin block alleyways and street openings. He examines the abandoned vendor stands which run along the front of buildings and sees one which has been set up in front of a clear alleyway. Armin takes the chance and sprints ahead, jumps over the wood countertop with Annie as repeated whistles of on duty police sing behind them.

They run for a couple of blocks before he needs to catch his breath. Thankfully, the residential area they've wound up in is quiet and uneventful.

"That was close." He says in-between pants. "I was afraid we would end up in between a riot…"

"You think quick." Annie acknowledges. "And apparently, you have a tight grip too. Where was this strength during our training?"

The Scout looks at the petite soldier oddly, not understanding. He then glances down and his mouth jerks, his ears burning like steam is shooting out—his hand is still clasped around hers.

"_AUGH!" _He yips loudly and yanks his hand up and away. It hasn't even been ten minutes since they've reunited and he's already made things weird again. "A-Annie! I only did it cause—I didn't—!"

Annie puts her finger to her lips and Armin's mouth snaps shut. A smile imperceptible to others but not him blesses her face. "Don't tell me you're already an obedient dog to the military. That's the quickest you've ever shut up."

Armin's shoulders sag, too flustered to come up with a response except keep his gaze away.

"Since you're here, we may as well start the tour now." Annie proposes as she adjusts the Balalaika over her shoulder. "Any place in particular you wanted to see first?"

A loud, angry growl erupts from his stomach, deepening Armin's flush. He hasn't had anything decent to eat since...huh. Since the last time he was in a town, so for a few months now.

Amusement leaves Annie in a short gust. "Guess I know where to take you then."

The walk is a bit long but Annie guides him to a place where foods which would spur a ravenous rampage from Sasha bake in brick ovens or crackle over iron grills. His mouth waters as bandanaed cooks serve sandwiches, breads, and sweet goodies alike—there's even chicken and _beef_. He knew this place was wealthy but to think _this _much food was possible to display has him consciously forcing back drool. Even so, he wants to save most of his allowance on another gift for Annie so he shows two fingers to a cook when asked how many beef skewers he wants.

"_Please." _Annie scolds him. "Like that's all you're hungry for."

He doesn't have a say when she reaches into her pocket and flashes a badge of the MP. The cook flinches upon sight and scrambles behind the counter in such a rush, Armin so much as blinks and small lunch boxes of chicken and beef skewers are slammed in front of him alongside a round, wood tub of celebratory dumplings. It's been _too _long since he's seen so much food—almost gets dizzy from the sight of actual protein and not dry rations—but he still feels terrible because the customers before them frown at him, angry their food was robbed and had been given to him instead.

"If that's not a perk, I don't know what is." Annie sneers toward the irritated people.

"I'll pay you back for all of this." Armin offers as he picks up the food and tries to ignore everyone's glares. "It may take a while considering the Scout's current budget...but I will pay you back!"

"Don't bother." She rejects. "Just hand me two of those dumplings and we're square."

Armin doesn't even try arguing; he'll just have to repay her with one of the sweet breads he saw as a thank you since he's positive she won't refuse that. They soon find a large cathedral with stone steps and Armin determines this is a good place to sit. He swears in nearly five minutes flat, he's managed to wolf down three-quarters of his food already.

"I would say you look well," Annie puts her instrument down and leans against a granite pillar with crossed arms. "But gauging by how quickly you're eating, the Survey Corps feeds you just as well as the Training Corps."

_Worse, actually. _Armin thinks.

"The food shortage isn't as bad as the famine a few years back." He looks on the brighter side of things. "We'll manage." He takes an eager bite of his dumpling and covers his mouth with his hand when he glances up to her. "How is it here? It meet your expectations?"

"Food and living quarters are better. People are somehow more annoying and the MPs are funded far more than the Garrison and Survey Corp combined. So, yes. It's exactly what I expected."

"I'm glad you're being treated well here." He smiles with semi-full cheeks. "I wish we had the cooks you have by our headquarters. If hunting wasn't so scarce, we'd probably have a bit more abundance of meat…but we aren't so lucky."

"That's your own fault." She scolds monotonously and Armin's incisors show out of rising amusement—is it weird he missed even her criticizing him? "If you had listened to me and joined the Garrison, you could have been given your own house by now."

He chuckles lightly. "You're right. But the Garrison is not suited for me. That job is too...sedentary."

The sigh she lets go of is much heavier than others he's heard. "A brain like yours is rare. It's a shame a boy wonder like yourself chose the Scouts instead of an actual life."

Armin stops munching. When he swallows, he slowly rolls his vision to Annie, intrigue warming his cheeks.

"...You think I'm a boy wonder?" He asks in awe.

Annie hunches in on herself, like she's trying to duck away from something. Slight pink highlights her otherwise mildly serious face. "…Blind people can hear how you are one. But you bring up a good issue. Boy Wonder is too cutesy a description for my taste. _Brainiac_ fits you better and you're the first one I've met who has self-esteem smaller than my baby toenail."

Armin can't resist—he laughs heartily. It's a barbed tease, but he takes her harsh nickname in stride; it's simply her sense of humor.

"I guess the other side of that coin is I could be full of myself." He speaks through his high-pitched chuckles. "And I would think me being arrogant would be even worse for you to deal with, especially if I made it in the Top Ten and came here with you."

Annie hrmphs. "...True. I get enough of that from the other cadets as is. If they aren't brownnosing the higher-ups or walking around with gigantic egos, they're drunk. You doing any of that is just…weird."

"And you do none of those things." Armin addresses admiringly. "You'll make a great MP, Annie. With your high level of precision and skills, I wouldn't be surprised if you grew in rank within a couple years."

Annie slants her head. "Have you been drinking?"

He looks at her quizzically. "...No. Why?"

"I was curious how such an impossible idea came into your head."

"I-I'm serious! You always had one of the highest scores on detective tests and with your fighting style alone, you could make the Military Police so much more efficient in apprehensions!"

"Doesn't mean I should be a higher ranking official for it."

"Doesn't mean you wouldn't have earned a promotion either."

Annie snorts with a small smirk. "You're adamant. Is it because you aspire to do the same thing? Rise in the ranks and command your own troops one day?"

Armin next laugh is weak and self-condescending. "Ha...that's way too much for me, I'm afraid. I don't think I could handle it. I'd rather be an average grunt in the background than be in the spotlight."

"You spend all those years around such an ambitious idiot like Eren and you still manage to sell yourself short."

Armin doesn't say a word. His sight glides down from her and to the pavement.

Who speaks the next sentence takes a while before Annie finally notices there's an issue. "...Still a sensitive topic, I take it." She remarks remorsefully. "His transformation, I mean."

A soft hum of acknowledgement leaves him. "I thought the shock would have faded by now but...it hasn't."

"Sorry."

"It's...it's fine."

Armin takes a few more bites of his food to fill the heavy silence.

"How's that front going anyway?" She asks a little more gently. "I'm surprised you responded as quick as you did. I'd have thought you'd all gone beyond the walls by now."

Armin shifts in his spot on the stairs. "The Scouts always need time to prepare." He dodges past the topic. "Resources to go outside are always scarce and after our last encounter with the Titans...I don't know what to expect. The only thing I know is that there's a chance we will all be surprised by anything. Nothing is predictable."

"...Yes." Annie murmurs faintly. "Titans can be unpredictable and come out of nowhere..." She unravels one of her arms and lightly taps it against his shoulder; No, he is _not _trying to keep a blush down right now. "Because of that, you better not overthink and be careful."

"Only if you do the same." He bats back to her. "I know Stohess is safe but illegal drug activity and human trafficking has been rising for some time now. I'm starting to think blocking off the house from the forest started a gang war for contraband production..."

"I'm a big girl." Annie dismisses swiftly. "I can take care of myself. You just stay focused on surviving rather than other people's problems."

Armin's thoughtful noise is delicate. "Yeah...we have our job cut out for us. I've been so tired lately, I had to splash water on my face repeatedly just to stay awake while riding here. But all of the stress will be worth it. We'll eradicate the Titans and get to the basement...someday. And we'll make it so the people outside the Inner Districts can celebrate as hearty and happily as the people here can."

Annie snorts lightly. "Eren's ambition always was infectious."

"That was always part of our plan though. It's the first piece to a puzzle which I'm not even sure what the picture is yet...but to get to the ocean, we need to know more about the Titans. Need to get to Shiganshina. Then we can actually _live."_

"Even when you're at the cost of not living now?" She brings up pointedly. "What's the point of all your efforts if all of it's for nothing? You'll have wasted your life."

He shares a resigned smile with her. "Then I'll have died doing what I wanted to do and not as some desk jockey or Garrison guard. Eren and Mikasa will surely survive and follow through on my wills. Hopefully before then though, your father will be allowed into the city, if he wants to come that is. I'd like to say thank you for teaching you things which helped others." His talking halts before his lips twitch fondly. "If I were in your shoes and my parents were still alive—if I tried to get them to come here—...I don't know if they even would come. Their faces are too fuzzy now but I remember Mom telling me of how proud she was of where she lived, of the business and family she and Dad built. But maybe, I wonder if it's mostly because of _what_ they built on why..." He bites his tongue. Annie is squinting her eyes questionably, so he cuts himself off from that road, "I was born and raised in that house too so I bet it would be hard to leave so many memories which were created there. I'd imagine your father would be just as stubborn too, to not want to leave all those memories of the house you grew up in behind." His tone grows lower, edging near inaudible. "I wonder...if I'll have a chance to see my own home again…even if it is only rubble now."

"...You talk about all of this as if you've already conceded you'll die." Annie mutters, her voice tense and quiet. "So much for you listening to me when I told you to survive."

"Ah...I must sound like that, don't I?" Much like his mood, his vocals sound gloomy. "And it's not that I'm not trying to survive at all. It just sounds right that us Scouts have to think like we will die. Maybe talking about it out loud makes me less scared about a fact which was is inevitable. I can help the Scouts plan and orchestrate attacks—be useful for once—but Eren and Mikasa…everyone, they'll be in the line of fire more than anyone else. We _need _capable soldiers who can fight the Titans and if anything happens to them…" He gulps hard. "My life means nothing compared to how important they are. There's no value I could add by me being a part of a battle, especially since Erwin is the best asset to humanity we have. I've seen how in depth he thinks things through and he's _brilliant—_far better than I could ever be_. _And if dying can be used to push all them along—if it saves their lives or grants victory—I'll...I'll do it. It's probably the only motivation I have which will make me _do _something next time. Not be some shaking, motionless mess like when Eren saved me and I _can't…"_He squeezes his eyes shut; his cheek can still feel the wind where Eren's severed forearm had whizzed past his face. "I can't watch losing a person I love again." He chokes out. "I can't and I _won't. _And because I can't, it's another reason why I'm...I'm glad you ended up not joining the Scouts with us, Annie." Armin has to blink away the tears burning his eyes but he manages a wobbly corner-smile when he twists his head to her. "You mean more to me than my own life too and I'm happy you're safe here. And if the situation called for it, what Eren did for me...I'd do for you in a second—for all of you."

The wind swaying long, yellow bangs hides Annie's face. She continues saying nothing and Armin understands the signal of how this conversation has ended. He doesn't feel so bad about how his rambling has ended things this time; he wanted her to know just how high in regard he holds her, to what kind of standard he keeps her at in his heart.

Armin yawns and in time with his jaw dropping, the bell in the cathedral tolls a loud announcement of midnight.

"It's late." He says as he stands. "Sorry for keeping you away from your original plans. The food was delicious! I hope they bring that cuisine to Trost someday!" Armin smiles affectionately to her. "Thanks again for the tour, Annie. I hope we can see more tomorrow. I saw a vacancy sign at an Inn a couple blocks back so I'll stay there for the night. Meet you here tomorrow morning?"

Annie's expression is unfocused as she looks to the tower where the bell rings, staring as if she's trying to see through it. Armin leans his head back curiously. "Are you okay, Annie?...Or I should just leave you be, shouldn't I?"

There's a sudden clench on her biceps— her fingers sinking frighteningly deep into her own muscle—then Annie unfolds her arms. Her hand moves forward and Armin's heart speeds into overdrive when small fingers thread through his and close. She tugs—this time much more gently—and pulls him down the steps with her.

A rush of heat floods his face again as he follows. "W-Where are we going?"

"Just follow me." She ushers him in a quiet voice. "You don't need to stay at an inn."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Armin can hide behind that baby-face all he wants, he's still a teenage boy and I don't envy how badly his "issue" must get lol. **

**Also Annie is Russian in the real world and a grunge rocker in a high school AU. Put that together in this early 20th century-like era and I thought a Balalaika was fitting LOL. This dude can rock out to one btw. o_o**

**Alexey Arkhipovsky:** watch?v=06NUKJS2p-Q

**Songs listened to:**

**Distant Pt.2-Vindsvept**

**Without You Here-Goo Goo Dolls (Oh ya, we're going to corny town. But seriously, how is this not one of their more popular songs? It's been my fav for so long.)**

**Born A Stranger- Laura Shigihara**


	14. Chapter 14

**For the sake of future scenarios and this chapter, I'm changing this to M. But for those who are worried, don't as even though I'm a nsfw degenerate, I didn't feel too much detail fit the mood here but everyone's version of detailed is different so I put an **[**X] where it starts and ends for those who wish to skip over it. You can pick up easily from there. **

**I'd also like to gauge the audience's comfort level as this story has been T since being published and I don't want to scare away readers with sudden M material or have them think it will become the focus of the story—it will not. What these two are going through remains to be the focus. There are some areas where I'd like to be more detailed but I'd rather get your input as to how far I can go before I continue. **

**Let me know the tier you prefer based off the below as I flesh out future chapters ^_^**

**a) Mild - all the fluffies and kissy kissy goodness of vague descriptions. (:3)**

**b) Moderate - nothing too explicit pls but if you do at least make it cute (:D)**

**c) Major - Make it cute AND give me the details Kitty ffs (o_o)**

* * *

He for sure didn't hear her question right. The drunkenness outside has contaminated the air somehow because he doesn't even believe he's _here _right now.

He had expected to explore Stohess and catch up with her more tomorrow like she said they would do, but now, Armin is looking at the inside of her messy room. His heart pounded when the lock on the door clicked and his gut writhed when Annie took a seat on the bottom bunk.

Then there's Annie's version of small talk. One blunt, tactless question which has him standing motionless in the middle of the room and staring down at her, stunned.

"Can...uh." He clears his throat twice and pulls at his neck collar. "Can you ask that question again? I don't think I heard it right."

Always the composed one, Annie repeats her words, this time more slowly, "Are you a virgin?"

His brain fizzles out like a dead flame and he's sure the heat radiating from his neck to his forehead could light up the entire city.

"Annie..." Armin struggles to comprehend how she could be so brazen with such a question. "That's not something you just _ask _someone…"

"Too late now. So, are you?"

The discomfited Scout squeaks the past three times he tries to answer. He settles for focusing his sweaty face at the wall, giving the stiff, faint motion of a nod.

"I had a feeling you were."

Well, _that _wasn't very nice. "Um...Okay."

Annie's blank expression doesn't flinch as she stares at him, her chin settled in her small palm when she asks, "Want to do it with me?"

_You're dead. _His brain blares. _You are dead or asleep or lying drunk on the street because this is _not_ happening and she did _not _just ask or tell you any_ _of these things._

Armin rubs his forehead, trying to clear all the thoughts buzzing and colliding together in his head. "Annie, I don't know...what…?"

"Only you could be polite enough to turn down an offer of sex." Annie criticizes with newly crossed arms. "Honestly, you should be more sensitive to a girl's feelings when she proposes something so personal."

"I-I'm not turning down anything!" He defends, embarrassment shaking his words and searing his cheeks. "I only..."

His voice is stuck in his throat. Confused rationale clashes with a body boiling from something primal and Armin isn't sure which to side with, especially when this topic he pondered on many nights has come up so casually.

"The last time we got close to _that_, we both weren't right in the head." He brings up nervously. "And to just jump right back into the issue again...especially when we haven't seen each other in a while, when we haven't talked about everything _else_. Even your letter didn't say too much—it just invited me here and mentioned what we could do together. Why..."

"You leave soon." Her empty tone didn't hide the sadness behind her words, driving the scalding blade of guilt deeper into his chest. "You're only here for a day and then you're bound to go beyond the walls at some point, bound to do something _stupid_ no doubt if what you were telling me earlier is how you truly feel. Beyond what both of us did, you haven't done anything." Annie stops. "I haven't done anything beyond that either. Why shouldn't we do it before you head out? It's not like there would be any attachments afterwards anyway."

After a set of quick blinks, groves form between Armin's brows. "...What do you mean there'd be no attachments?"

Annie shrugs. "We would just be 'living a little' or however the hell people put it when you need stress relief. There's no need for you to worry like you always do and be obligated to think there's anything between us when we're done either. Not like there was anything between us in the first place anyway."

There it was, a weight of frustration packed so heavily in his chest, his own spine could snap from the final straw falling over it.

To speak so callously of what he tried so hard to understand between them—to try and reach out to understand _her—_and to say there are no attachments, they never even existed; everything she's said is a contradiction of how he feels and he can't agree with what she's saying. _Why _would she_…?_

"Annie, why are you doing this?" His voice cracks with rising exasperation and confusion. "What even _is this_ between us_? _And why meof all people? The last time you tried doing this, it was so spontaneous and unlike you. It was like you picked me because I happened to be there, because no one better came around. Annie, you _kissed me_ and you aimed to do more before I stopped you. Why..." Desperate for answers with frustration clawing its way into his composure, Armin looks at Annie pleadingly. "Why did you do all of that?"

A blue snowstorm swirling in the small girl's eyes are stuck on the window. "It's not like we did anything serious." She dismisses irritatingly. "You denied my advances when I tried. Is that what you're going to do now?"

"No, I-." His shoulders slump. A deep breath inflates his chest before he exhales and straightens his posture. "I don't understand is all. I _want _to understand but every time I try...you don't let me. Sometimes I don't even know if you want me around. You even looked disgusted by me simply touching your shoulder or giving you gifts— you never even acknowledged them until I brought them up. Then, all of a sudden, you yanked on my shirt to make me stay that night at the pond, you get us alone and you kiss me, and you run away after each time instead of trying to talk to me. Now you're trying to do _this_ again_? _Why?"

Pain and confusion unlike any other corrodes his insides as he waits, watches how in just a few seconds, Annie's stoic expression blends with emotions more fiery than apathy.

After an uncomfortable silence, she responds in a tight voice, "You make things too complicated. I did everything I did because I choose to. And after everything we'd seen... I thought kissing you would help me forget it."

"So...I _was _convenient? Or," His throat tightens and bitterness laces his next sentence. "You also did it because you pitied me from the night before the wall was attacked. You felt bad for knocking me off the log and calling me a worm. Just like how you feel bad for me now..."

Annie cracks her jaw. Her narrowed eyes dart to him then flee back to the wall, an action which he assumes is a passive yes to one of his options—if not both—and disappointment sinks his stomach.

"Of course, you don't understand anything I'm saying because you alwaysdo things to impose attachments, don't you?" In her eyes and words is aggression beyond anything he's ever heard or seen from Annie but Armin is too agitated to care; hearing her only has him balling his fists. "I bet you think that you're the only one left in our regiment who can think tactfully but you're _wrong_. You think I wouldn't catch your little traps of guilting or flattering me? Like you did with all the others when you were teaching them? Well I _did—_your manipulations don't work and you won't obligate me to anything_. _High ranking official? What a load of crap. Why are you so interested in what I become anyway? Is it to put me in your back pocket for later? Get into my good graces so you can ask me for a favor one day? You must really not like how I caught you burying that drug lord heap of _shit_, that you have sympathy for horrid people. What kind of message would that give to the public if that got out?" A bitter scoff hisses through her teeth. "And it's funny how you bring up those gifts because your ideas and where I found them were good, _too _good. How else would you have known what I like unless you've been watching me? Or do you just get your kicks out of getting into people's heads or by being creepy?"

It's the first time she's ever said so many words to him and Armin sees red from them, his palms hurting from how hard he's clenching his fists.

"Annie…" He starts, anger tremoring the voice he tries to keep level. "I taught the others because they asked and they were the most capable of our regiment—we need people like that to at least pass areas they struggle in if humanity can hope to get anywhere. And you're very forgetful because _you _started staring first. I only responded! And you never approached me about anything so how was I supposed to know there was a problem?!" A larger offense cuts deep into Armin's bones. "And I've been _nothing _but genuine to you, Annie. For three years I have. On everythingI've asked you about or done, it was because I _wanted _to know—to understand or make you feel better—not because I had some ulterior motive. Anyone with eyes and ears and cares enough can figure out what other people like, even if they never say it! I figured with how unbelievably smart you are, you'd know that already. Or are you just so paranoid that you still don't believe that I'm telling the truth?!"

A malicious smirk shivers the side of her lips. "Paranoid, huh?" She repeats in a tone both perfectly smooth and threatening. "I wouldn't say that for me but it suits you very well because rather than fret and stew in my own juices to ask a _question, _I just _do it_. It was funny to watch you writhe and worry over what I thought about your gifts though. Getting under your skin is a rare treat."

Armin feels a scowl coming on but he holds back. Instead, he allows a small, knowing smile to twitch the corner of his mouth too. "You're right. I was too timid and passive for my own good—I realize that now. But more importantly, I also have something which you'll find funny. That straw-hat you gave me is similar to the one I used to wear on our off days before some jerks in my barracks stole and shredded it. I never told you how important it was to me, only frequenters of my lunch table. And yet, you managed to find a hat which is almost a complete match to my grandfather's and put it in the forest, didn't you? To the one place where you knew I'd be alone."

Her tremoring sneer falters and drops.

A scoff which mimics Annie's past arrogant one rushes out of his mouth. "It looks to me like you were watching and listening just as much as I was."

"More like a lucky guess." She fires back. "You did ramble too much over your grandfather's gardening...and those dumb dandelions."

"...You really should leave the lying tactics to me, Annie. You're really bad at it and I don't believe you."

Annie's frown doesn't compare to the tension he sees collecting in her neck or in the hands tightening on her knees. He's easily lost his invitation here and his chance of exploring the town with her but he stands his ground on legs shaking from anger rather than fear. He's exhausted of kinder methods not working and if this is the way to get her to finally talk, _fine_.

"You're the_ stupidest_ brainiac I've ever met." She spits with venom and a hushed voice but Armin detects emotion thickening words. "Stupid _and _blind. Did you actually have some fantasy expectation that by doing all you did, something was going to come out of you trying to talk to or be around me? That there's anything positive which comes by attaching yourself to wretched people like me? Don't delude yourself. I'm out only for myself and I _will _keep being selfish so you can either get over it or get _out _if you can't take it!"

He's not a child anymore—insults don't phase him—but Armin is genuinely confused, extends to Annie the same raised eyebrow and head tilt she gives when she wants to be condescending. "What are you talking about? You're nowhere near anything wretched or selfish—I even doubt you're really out for yourself. Annie, y...you're the first time I've ever been left speechless on how to describe someone because there's just too much to say. Annie, you're _wonderful_."

"...Stop it." She warns chillingly.

"N-No! I'm not being deceitful—I'm being as genuine as I've always been—and I'll keep doing that now! Most people just tune out when I talk or listen out of politeness, but not you. You never did. You listened and asked me questions while others would just play along or walk away from me. You picked me up and pushed me and Eren down harder so we could rise stronger. You could have done nothing or let someone else save Connie or Jean but you _didn't. _You risked your own life! Annie, you're rough around the edges like everyone else but your selflessness and kindness in all of those times prove you're—."

"I said, _stop it!" _She exclaims in time with grabbing and smashing a bottle in the divide between them. Liquid spills into the wood cracks as Annie rigidly shakes her head. "Just…" Armin's chest rifts at how her eyes look watery and the side of her hand rests against her forehead, standing clawed and tight when she gasps, "_Stop_."

He's pushed her past a limit he didn't know she had and he does feel somewhat bad. Armin allows the pause to live for a small while before his pursuit of knowledge continues.

"All I want is an answer to at least one of my questions." He bargains softly. "_Any _of them. All this time we've spent together and it...it doesn't feel like something where there's no attachments. There are so many mysteries already—too much information missing which is driving me crazy—but I _know _there is something here. Annie, I make things weird, I'm an idiot, and I sound like a crazy fool spouting fairy tales when I talk about traveling beyond the walls—I know all of that—but this is a feeling I'm _sure _of."

Never is there a moment in his pleading where Annie looks him in the eye—the color simply drains from her face at every pass of a second as her head shakes relentlessly. She looks down into hands which tremor like someone with a severe case of the shakes.

"What do you _want _from me?" The words leave her in a breathless whisper.

Armin squints at her curiously. He's just made everything he wanted clear. How is she still confused?

"You're like a stain I can't wash off my hands or some tedious itch...and I can't ignore it. Every other feeling I can ignore but not _this—_it just gets worse when I try. I don't know what you did and I don't know how or when you did it, but you did something—you were sneaky in some way I couldn't anticipate_. _And damn it...I can't figure it out. I don't _get it._ What did you _do _to me?"

Armin was always sure Annie was wary of touch—purposefully kept away from others too—but he didn't know her fears ran this deep, how anything he has given or done for her all this time is alien to her understanding. This lack of basic needs leads him toward a suspicion of childhood abuse—or worse—and suddenly, Armin feels soul-dismembering regret toward yelling at her.

"If you're that distracted by it, then isn't that enough to suggest something is here then?" He tries to prove more gently. "The fact that what you're feeling is so strong? I feel the same way!"

"_No." _She refutes sharply._ "_And the fact that you're so adamant to prove that there is one makes me believe more that this is a even if for some dumb reason it wasn't a trick it—." Annie's forehead falls into one of her hands. After a long exhale, she murmurs, "All of it doesn't matter anymore…it doesn't matter because it's done and it's brought both of us to this point. I don't _care _about the past, just what happens next. Everyone here always gripes about frustration and sexual tension so if us fucking is what gets rid of the worst of what I'm feeling, fine. I just want to be rid of it—that's probably all this is between us anyway."

"So... you're not going to answer me then." He responds, audibly hurt. "And to say everything up to this point doesn't matter…to even want to get rid of it..."

"You don't_ need_ answers in order to do this with me." When she looks up, the turmoil brimming in her eyes has been capped and stored away; all the proof left of her past woes is a wet shine at the ends of her eyes. "I do things because I wantto, not because I'm chained to pity or stupid obligations. That's it. That's allthere is to me. And all you need to know is when I tried this last time, all that went around in my head is-."

Annie stops, her jaw visibly becoming tight. An uncomfortable hush comes over the room. "We're wasting energy and time talking as much as we are. How tonight ends is entirely your choice, Armin. I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to, especially if it's sleeping with a horrid person like me. I'll even grant you with knowing that you're possibly the most decent person I've met. All the more reason for me to understand if you say no. And to get you off my back, I'll also let you know this…"

When she stands up—slowly approaches him—Armin takes in a rattling breath. "Back then, when I got us both alone and I kissed you…" Butterflies beat an angry rhythm in his stomach when her body is close and lips he remembered being so silky-smooth draw closer**. **"Trost showed me how short life is…" She whispers so carefully, one must strain to hear. A lone finger drags down the seam of his button-down shirt, his heart thumping harder and harder. Annie utters "And that sometimes we have to take a leap…" before shooting up on her tiptoes and captures his lips with hers.

The beasts of desire and frustration has risen too high on his skin to keep down anymore and Armin fights back with a harder press. He keeps being surprised tonight as Annie's kiss is undeniably rough but there's a tenderness which wasn't here last time; Armin can tell this by how slow her mouth moves against his quick one, how her quivering hands take his face and allows a thumb to sluggishly trace his jawline.

"You're one to talk about manipulation…" Armin mutters in a daze. "You compliment me and now this. Is this another way of you trying to provoke me?"

Her hands flinch away from his face like she's been burned but they hover over his cheekbones, idling there like she doesn't know what to do with them.

"If you had the will-power to resist me when I was literally on top of you, damned if you don't have the strength to deny me now." She returns fire with a blizzard-blue glare. "I'm simply taking _something _before your stupid morals make you say no. It's still your choice. Neither of us have to say anything. You don't have to overthink or get hurt either. All we have to do is..._be _here_._" Her fingers fall on him again and as if her skin is a magnet, he pushes his cheek harder into her right hand and Annie's hold trembles even harder. She feeds him one more kiss and when her lips leave him, a conflicted whine-like noise leaves her. "...I still don't get it." She mutters, pained. "Even this isn't enough. _Why_…?"

The young soldier isn't sure he should be happy or alarmed by what she says so he keeps quiet. He places his forehead against her warm one, peaks a glimpse into complicated ice-lake depths and gets lost in her.

Annie is clear-headed and means what she says, Armin sees. Frustration festers in her as it does in him but the underlying constant he sees in her and feels in him is both of them _want _this. She leers up at him the entire time he inspects and the soft fondness in her eyes paired with a glint of mischief sends flesh-bump thrills along his skin.

This...isn't how he wanted this to have happened; he wishes he understood more or could tell her how he felt with a piece of jewelry or over dinner tomorrow but all he can concentrate on is how Annie isn't a splintered girl this time. She's coherent and admitted he has crept into her thoughts and feelings too; for what's left of his rational mind, it's enough. He forces down a gulp which feels like he's swallowing an orange.

[**X]**

Armin speeds down and seals his lips over hers. The first kiss is always chaste, has them rolling their jaws slowly and the pleasant, fuzzy haze creeps into his head again. His hands seek out her waist and he brings her in so close, their lower abdomens push together. The ache is back and shyness has him stumbling against her lips because he _knows _she can feel it but she doesn't push him away; she lets out a haughty exhale over his mouth and presses more into him which has Armin's fingers hooking deeper into her hips. In return, Annie tugs him down so hard, his neck feels like he's caught in a head lock and her kissing turns more savage but he fights back. Sweet kisses transform into a form of war and Armin's breath comes in harder, each spot of his flesh smoldering as they sigh and mix breath from every shifting head slant.

Annie then tugs him backwards by his belt loops, leading him to the bed until Armin is caged between the bottom-bunk mattress and her.

"To think you'd actually agree to do this with someone like me." She smirks cockily through heavy pants. She sits on him with her knees resting by his hips and when she undoes her bunched hair, yellow strands drop like a waterfall over her shoulders. "I admit, I'm shocked. But you do tend to be a fool."

Armin's head rolls on the pillow in replacement of a puzzled head tilt. "I don't see how I am when I want this too. And I've already told you that you're kind and wonderful, Annie. Are you so forgetful and negative that I'd need to remind you of that fact every day?"

Her hands stop working on the laces of her pants. Annie looks down on him, eyelids heavy and peeking through bangs of platinum yellow. "...And if you actually had that chance," He barely hears her whisper, "...if you could, would you?"

Armin's brows upturn. She looms over him like he's prey—pupils blown wide with lust stuck on him—but the stare she holds him with...it has affection he's only witnessed her link with her Father, except right now, her dilated eyes wonder and plead, beckoning a response from him. And maybe it's his imagination, but maybe what he sees is...

He leaps up from the bed and snatches her lips with his, "You'reway better at catching actors and bullshit than me, Annie." He parts to say and her eyelids screw shut when he kisses her again. "_You_ tell _me _if I'm lying."

The girl who can see through the world's smoke and mirrors doesn't respond, she does something even better—when his lips leave her, the top row of her teeth show with her smile and she ducks her messy head, like Annie knows he _is_ being honest and is shyly flattered. He grabs her chin and kisses her ten-times harder for it.

He flips and puts her back to the bed this time and the darkness of night consuming the windows hides most of the teenager's inexperience and clumsy movements. His hands learn as he goes just like his mind had to and it's just not Annie if there are no sharp criticisms of what he's doing or how he's doing it at first, but his reward is responses he's left wide-eyed from. His fingertips dragging over her bare stomach has the firm muscles jumping, her eyelids snap open and breath catches when he finally finds it, and the _sounds _she makes; they're hungry, needful noises when she has him focus on her chest and pleased sighs when his fingers study between a more sacred place.

Then warmth holds all of him and they tremble together from the shock. She's impossibly snug but every push brings something new, has Annie shifting from straining to adjust to snarling over his name to sounding near sobbing and one time isn't _enough; _she clings to him when she peaks and he still can't believe a cry so wavering and girlish has come from _Annie. _Pent-up energy built over years has him going again and Annie doesn't argue, but like always, she tries to provoke him, scrapes her nails where she can or questions how far he can go. He should probably feel bad but he wants payback and he's proud of how he can _shut her up _through a sharp dive of his hips, cuts her off when she tries taunting him and leaves her hissing instead.

Only until the entire room transforms into a sauna and the bright gleam of dawn spills along the floorboards is when practice sets in and so does exhaustion. But even as both are still tired and boneless after a nap, Annie's husky voice plumes against his ear, "My roommate isn't back until early tomorrow morning," and the revelation grants the two access into untapped reserves, more energy to savor every second before their worlds split again.

[**X]**

After everything, Armin feels a not-unwelcome innocence has melted away and as Annie recovers on his chest—his arms keeping her pressed to him under sheets they had forgotten about until just now—he wishes now more than ever that he could freeze time. Annie's expression is relaxed from post-bliss and when she snuggles into his shoulder—her sweat-matted hair tickling him and has him caving in resting his head against hers—he realizes just how deeply he's entranced by her. He wants to tell her that.

His tongue is a giant wad of gum to work around in his mouth but he finally opens up with a tired, "Annie…"

A small hand falls over his mouth. Annie's hold is gentle and he feels her forehead resting against him shake. The muscles in his neck shiver when a pillow-soft peck presses on his pulse—makes a home there for longer than he expects—then a voice sounding lost in dreams mumbles tiredly:

"I missed you too, Armin."

* * *

**Full disclosure, I do have an E rated version of this chapter in mind but I plan for it to be written when this story concludes so it will be completely optional for those who wish to skip over it and gives me much more time to develop. Nsfw content—especially first timers—take a long time for me to structure so the more time I have, the better. **

**Salem's interlude(**** watch?v=12gtrUg1uz8****) & Motion **** /P1tI4VFMRmE?t=45**** helped a lot with crafting this chapter. Khalid and R&B has a way of setting the mood.o_o**


	15. Chapter 15

**Ch. 15**

**This chapter contains a spoiler from Chapter 125. It's nothing major or pertaining to the current plot position in the manga but it's a spoiler nonetheless, so beware. **

**I can't kick my old habits so please excuse me as I throw myself into the trash can again for the scene I should be ashamed to have written. ;C **

**[X] marks where M-rated content begins and ends.**

* * *

A warmth centered on Armin's face flinches his eyelids. When he opens them, the sky of early afternoon shines through the bedroom window. He clenches his eyes to clear his vision and as Armin rises to peek at the clock, a weight holds him down. His chin declines.

Annie is asleep on his shoulder. The bedsheets come up to the middle of her arm and beneath them, he feels one of her legs curled around his. His eyes are wide open from amazement and in the same instant, Armin becomes shy and discomforted at noticing they are both still naked, but he doesn't move.

It _wasn't_ a dream and by some miracle, Annie is still here. She rests soundly, her brows which quiver now and again narrowed—even in sleep, she seems discontent and the side of his mouth flinches up; it just wouldn't be Annie if a fighter like her was too relaxed when at her most vulnerable.

Armin is puzzled though. His heart thumped as rapidly as hummingbird wings whenever she was near. Now, as their close bodies trade heat, a steady rhythm is kept in his chest. He isn't sure how to explain it but the room and Annie look different now. He feels like a scrub brush has been taken to his brain—scraped and cleansed him of fears bogging down his mind—and for once, it's nice to lie in bed with no worries, to float and have a blank slate in his head. Maybe this is what was called the afterglow.

He notices his hand is on her waist and maybe it's because he's feeling a little more daring, Armin carefully runs his palm along her side, registering all the firm muscle along the way. Holding her like this is soothing, tranquil even, and he wants more, hesitates at first before finally reaching for it. The back of his hand brushes a slow, feather-light glide along Annie's cheek, down to the middle of her chin. She's always much softer than he imagined, her skin satin-smooth and flawless. His hand acts on its own, repeating his strokes, unable to tear himself away.

As he watches Annie sleep, there's a fuzzy bubbling in the back of his head. He sees light like he's emerging from a dark tunnel and he inhales sharply. His mind has unearthed something.

He _sees _again.

"_I just wanted to see it…" His smaller self sniffled. Armin glanced back at the contraption which had stopped sputtering and whirring by his parents who rushed to shut it off._ _"You guys are always in here a-a-a-and I-I wanted..."_

"_We told you it isn't safe." Mother reminded him firmly. The sheets he had taken off are hurriedly put back on until the small boy and onlookers could no longer decipher what was below the covers. "You scared your Father and I to _death_. Imagine what could have happened to you if something went wrong?"_

_Armin clenched his hands tighter. He didn't like imposing concern even if it's on his own caring parents._

"_Everything your Mother and I worked for will be shown to you one day." Father told him a little less sternly than Mother. "It isn't ready yet."_

"_But when it is...I'm afraid." He hiccupped, inching near a bigger meltdown. "What if you get lost? You'll be alone and the Titans will hurt you. H-How can Grandpa and I help if you're so far away?" _

_Armin stared down at his feet, his eyes burning with unshed tears but he held it all back—he didn't want to prove he's a weak cry baby who's too attached to his parents. There's a rustle next to him and when his sight lifted up, Mother is crouched at his side. The smooth details of her face are clear as day and eyebrows which he inherited are in worried, upside down crescents. _

"_We won't get lost, Armin." She assured him. "And we know what we're dealing with. We need to do these test runs so we're prepared on how to make a safe landfall. We'll travel more safely that way."_

"_That doesn't mean you'll come back home though…" He doubted, his lower lip wobbly. "That thing is big and people will notice it go over the walls. I don't...want to be left behind."_

_Mother collected his cheeks in hands hardened by welding and woodshop and raised his chin. A smile so warm graced her face and Armin wanted to break down there but he forced the tears back still. "My sweet Bumblebee. You won't be. Home is where my loved ones are_—_where _you_ are. That's why we need to make sure the path is safe for you. For this to succeed, we need to make sure all the obstacles are gone so next time, you _can_ come with us. Then all of us will be home again."_

_Mother wiped away one of his tears which had fallen. "Then I don't see why I can't help you…" He mumbled. "I can teach myself and fast too. I even assembled one of the components entirely on my own! I can show you!"_

_A large hand fell on his head. His neck swiveled around and eyes which matched the blue depths in Armin's own gazed down at him. "This contraption is still unstable and you're too important to join in this with us, son." His Father ruffled the young boy's hair. "We can stand to lose this hunk of junk, but not you."_

"If you keep touching my face, you'll be able to recreate it in clay while blindfolded, Arlert." Annie mocks sleepily.

Armin stops and Annie's eyelids open, groggy ice peeking out through her messy bangs. A line of yellow rises on her forehead at spotting his hand so close by.

Armin smiles awkwardly but he counters with, "Maybe that was my intention and you just spoiled the surprise."

"Well it's getting annoying and your surprise is dumb." She retorts and slaps his hand away from her.

"Call it payback for trying to give me a limp." Armin responds, his inner thigh still shuddering a little from strain.

Annie harrumphs. "I didn't waste my time teaching you so you could get even weaker on me." She chastises. "And you weren't exactly gentle the whole time you were fucking me either. I'm sore too but you don't see me crying about it."

Armin rubs the bottom of his nose, embarrassed by his own memory and at how coarsely Annie describes sex. "I was gentle when it mattered. And last I checked, you told me to be rougher and you didn't exactly protest it…"

Annie snorts. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. It still sounds like you need to train more."

If all of last night and this morning is Annie's definition of "training" then he will _gladly _take her advice.

Armin waits for when Annie pushes him off or tells him they need to clean up the room but the statement never comes. Both of their breathing is the only sound in the room for the longest time.

Annie tucks her face a smidge deeper into his shoulder. "Are you going to tell me what was bugging you?"

"Hm?"

Her eyelids fall to half-closed. "You cut yourself off while you were making your grand speech at the church. And right now, you seem to be thinking about something."

Armin adjusts himself on the bed, discomforted. "It's nothing important."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"Really, it's nothing." He insists. "I just remembered something is all."

"Which is?"

He's a little startled. He's not used to Annie being so insistent.

Armin turns his head to her and smiles lightly. "I don't want to be a nuisance, Annie. I'm fine—"

Her index finger and thumb pincer his nose and he nasally gasps, "_Ow"_. She shakes his head side to side. "I'm not interested in hearing your bullshit. _I'm _better at catching liars, remember? Tell me the truth."

Armin is reduced to stunned silence from her demand. He sighs resignedly and rotates his head, examining the dark space between the wood boards above them.

"My parents were murdered by the government." He gets to the point quickly. Annie's head is knocked back but no words leave her parted mouth. "At least...that's what I believe. They worked on something in their workshop and forbade me from looking at it or touching it. I don't know how many times they field tested it, but one day...they just never came back. Grandpa never gave me a straight answer of who or why—I'm not even sure he knew—but...there was something in his eyes whenever the Military Police came around. Kids called me a heretic for simply talking about what's beyond the walls and the government outlawed research into it. I can imagine what other worse things are done to those who actually act on the desire to go out…"

Annie keeps up her standard routine: she says nothing and her face is vacant. Even so, Armin spots how her forehead is delicately wrinkled.

"They always had side projects, always pushed what the law said they couldn't do." He goes on. "I admired them for it—I think maybe I'd do the same if I were in their shoes—but at the same time...going after their dream took them from me. They didn't mean to but they knew the consequences. Sometimes, I can't help but feel bitter. They chose what they wanted instead of me. And I guess if I'm being selfish, I felt like I was…"

"Abandoned." Annie finishes in a whisper.

He looks to her, taken aback. "Right. Was it that obvious?"

Annie doesn't answer. Her sight is locked on him and a sadness he didn't mean to impose creeps into her eyes. He feels bad again.

He rubs the side of his neck nervously. "Or perhaps I'm being too hard on them. My parents meant well and they even told me they had to draft a path so I could go with them. It only makes sense considering Titans are roaming everywhere outside."

"...It's okay to be upset, you know."

Snowball-blue spheres are the softest they've been when being judgmental and Armin gulps on sight.

"But you're also right." He counters. "Sometimes the past doesn't matter anymore. What matters is I look forward and remember them as they were to me."

"That doesn't mean you should shut out what's happened either and you're the type that needs to let it out. So, why don't you do so now?"

"But really, I'm not—"

A dainty hand slaps over his mouth again. "Stop fighting me when I'm trying to make you feel better. You'll hurt my feelings."

Annie is only half-serious when she plays around but knowing so doesn't stop his heart from dipping. Armin can't look at her anymore and he rips his sight away.

Beneath the hurt of Grandpa dying, splinters he forgot lived in his heart pulse with pain again. He pushes through his swallow twice and Armin wishes he didn't sound so wounded when he whispers, "...I guess so much has happened, I kept pushing away how much their decision affected me. I love my parents and they loved me, but they chose their ambitions over me. And I wish they..."

He cuts himself off before scalding wetness pours down his cheeks. He takes in a labored breath and in the corner of his eye, Annie's face is apathetic per usual, but disks painted ice-blue are full of the most sympathy he's ever seen from her. She shimmies herself up on the bed so her head is higher than his and when she tugs on his shoulders to bring him onto his side, she guides his face to rest on her chest. To say he's shocked is an understatement and he's glad Annie can't see just how wide his eyes stretch out.

His yesterday-self would have fainted by now what with them being naked and his cheek is _literally on top _of one of her breasts but being this close to her feels natural. Annie's body is strong—pleasantly cushy and toasty against his own—and her fingers timidly slide up and down his nape, like she's trying to pet his unease away. In other moments when he is low, Armin appreciated words of fire from Eren to motivate him and cool encouragement from Mikasa of how he was okay, but he likes Annie's method way more: she just holds him because sometimes there isn't anything to say.

He kisses her clavicle as a thank you and the skin against his mouth flinches. Armin expects a snide comment but he keeps being taken by surprise: Annie holds him tighter and nuzzles the top of his head. He smiles at a new discovery: Annie likes cuddling and he's more than happy to oblige, surrounds her back with his arms. Armin feels a radiance as they breathe in unison and he's not sure if this burst of warmth is from just Annie or the sun setting in the window. He's being _painfully_ corny with this next thought but he believes it sincerely: this must be how fireflies feel—to be luminous and warm even in the face of darkness. Annie emits a tiny sigh and Armin burrows his face into her chest.

"I love you." He blurts out.

Annie tenses and her movements stop. She's as stiff as he expected but she doesn't let him go.

"I thought I just liked you or was desperate to get to know you because I admired you so much." He continues when she says nothing. "But I see now that it's both...and more."

Her heart beating against his face picks up in speed but Annie's composure doesn't break. She remains quiet, still as the grave.

"That's how I feel and what I believed this was between us. That's what I was struggling to accept since I thought we _should _just be friends even though I really didn't want to be. I didn't understand why I felt this way or how it even happened, especially with how close and then distant we'd be. But now..." He rubs his cheek against velvety, light peach skin and croons, "I just love you, Annie."

The muscles in her back have become noticeably taut but Armin keeps hugging her through the rigid silence.

"...You say that," She mutters faintly. "But I wonder if that's your silver tongue working because you just want to have another go with me."

He turns his face to stare up at her. "Look me in the eye again and tell me I'm lying."'

She doesn't. Her muddied glare darts down to him then quickly flees to the other end of the room. Annie hrmphs. "You're sweet but you're still a boy and right now, I think you're too blissed out at having popped my cherry."

Armin grimaces. "... Annie, that was needlessly vulgar."

"Blame the person who taught me the phrase." She bats back. Her finger points at the top bunk and Armin sighs. Annie surely has an interesting roommate and he's not sure he wants to meet her.

"Anyway, that's how I feel." He gets back on track. "You're right. I bottle things up too much and I can't see straight from it...so I figured I'd just come out with it."

Annie becomes selectively mute again.

"...And what do you expect me to say?" She finally questions.

He mulls over her question for a moment.

"Nothing." He responds.

She shoves him back by his shoulders and frowns down at him, startled. "_What?"_

"I don't expect anything." He responds more happily than he probably should but he means it. "Don't get me wrong, I'd like a response but I see that I've been too pushy and timid and honestly...it's exhausting. I understand now it must have been just as exhausting for you too. I knew there was a reason why you're quiet and with what you said about not understanding what I feel, I assume you didn't get as much affection as I did when we were younger. Bunch all of what I did on top of that and... I must have really scared you."

Annie stares at him. A doubtful exhale ejects from her mouth and she rolls her eyes. "Oh for—is this your lead up to another speech on how you can rescue the fair maiden from her past woes?" She criticizes venomously. "That I'm so emotionally wounded and frail and you can help me by sweeping me off my feet? Give me a break."

"No." He answers soothingly. "All I wanted was to tell you how I feel. I always wanted to but I was too worried I'd scare you off like before and you just wouldn't talk to me again. But I'm glad I just fessed up. I feel better but I understand you want no attachments or maybe you need time to sort your thoughts. Either way, I get it. And Annie," The end of his lips rise softly. "You never needed my help with anything. I think you just need to be reminded of how special you are. I'd keep sending you letters to tell you just that."

And he would. He'd count every characteristic of her he finds wonderful and make it the single subject of every letter so he has a topic to write about every day. And under different circumstances, he'd keep sending letters even if she rode out to HQ and buried him under five feet of dirt in an unmarked forest grave to get him to stop; he wouldn't.

"Actually, you _can _start by stopping with those letters." Annie breathes exasperatedly and moves back from him. "My drawer is getting full and my roommate is pestering me about them."

"Then I'll stop."

Annie's head snap toward him is quick, her eyes wide enough to imply she's shocked.

He carries on his smile to her. "I've bugged you for too long and I bet it must have been _really _annoying. And now that you mention it, I can see how everything I did _was _kinda creepy…so, I'll stop. I'm sorry I made you so uncomfortable."

A scowl lacking full inspiration yanks down the side of Annie's mouth. "I only said all that because I was angry…"

"Doesn't make what you said any less true."

A pale-blue marble zips to him, looks away, then locks on to him again. "You're serious." She states rather than asks. "After all that grief you gave me last night and your little confession just now, you'd be willing to drop it all because I said I want no attachments?"

"Of course I am." He answers, a tad perplexed. "I'm not going to force on you something you don't want."

"You're pulling my leg."

"I'm not."

"You're _serious?"_

"I—_yes_. Annie, I'm not so sure how else you want me to tell you I'm serious..."

There's a brief wait time as Annie drills an incredulous look into him. Annie's lips part for a condescending noise then her mouth leaps up into a smile and she _laughs_. It's not one of her belittling snickers; Annie is genuinely amused with high-pitched chuckles coming from the bottom of her gut and all her teeth show. He's never seen her smile reach so high or heard the delicate soprano of her laugh and she looks _so_...

"Armin, that's literally the _dumbest thing _I've ever heard." She laughs wholeheartedly. "How does someone so smart waste their time wit— "

His lips crush against hers. Annie tenses from surprise but she doesn't pull back. His hands holding her face feel her go from stiff to unraveling until she's completely limp in his grip. He wants to smile but he doesn't—the complacent rolling of her jaw against his is all he needs.

Her mouth leaves his and circles of frigid ice affix to him. "You said I need time but I told you what I wanted already. What makes you so damn confident that I don't already have all this figured out?"

"Knowing you, you do." He brushes a few strands of hair covering her eyes. "All the more reason for me to leave you alone for once."

"...and why would you do that when you've come this far already?" She tests him with a sharper glare. "All of this sounds more like you've gotten what you wanted so it's easier for you to make up a story and toss a girl to the side."

"I'm not tossing you aside." He calmly disputes though his chest stings minorly in how Annie is still suspicious. "What's a way I can relate this whole thing to…" He taps his chin. "Think of us like Winter and Spring. You're snowed in by things and if you want to talk to me about them, the worst of it all will eventually melt like Spring does to Winter. I don't mind hearing you like you've heard me and I'd like to think that if you _did_ feel the same way or if you wanted to...I could help you with what makes you so sad and angry. But," He laughs lightly. "Like humans and nature, that healing happens at a snail's pace."

"I can't tell if you're lecturing me on weather technicalities or reciting disgusting poetry from some preachy poet. Knock it off either way or I'll arrest you for pissing off an officer."

"Ah, disgusting, maybe! But it makes my point, right?" He grins in time with Annie's disagreeing lip purse. "Disgustingly good point it is then! Or disgustingly proven? Disgustingly achieved? Hmm...or maybe— "

Annie grabs his jaw so hard, her fingers dig into his cheeks and with a firm tug, her lips ram onto his.

When she pulls back, only the tamest threat of murder constricts her pupils this time. "Since you never shut your damn yap, _I_ have to do it for you." She then mutters more to herself than him, "Like everything _else."_

"Now that doesn't have to be true." Armin runs his hands over the outside of her thigh, evoking a knee-jerk from her. "I learn pretty quick and I learned a lot last night."

"_Ha." _She taunts haughtily. "More like you just got lucky. What the hell can a wimp like youdo to _me _anyway?"

Annie's mock-scolding is chilling but there is channeled focus in her stare, one which is hanging a little _too_ closely on his next word. Armin tries his best not to smirk.

"You're awfully interested in hearing what a stupid idiot has to offer." He judges with a caricature-like pout and eyebrow quirk. "Why the sudden change?"

"Even a broken clock is right twice. Maybe you finally learned something interesting." Her hand grabs and squeezes the underside of his jaw. "Now cough it up."

"Hmm..." Armin closes his eyes in deep thought, feigning being conflicted as his face is held hostage. "But telling you would obstruct the first rule of the Idiot Club: never share our magical secrets. This is a tough spot. Sorry, Annie…I don't think— "

A pillow shoves into his face. Armin flails and gags, certain Annie aimed well enough in having his mouth stuffed with pillow cover; he supposes the fun of getting under her skin has its consequences. She lets go and he jerks backward with a loud _pleh_ while Annie scoots away from him, curling in on herself.

"You probably knew all those fondling tricks because of some filthy book." She mumbles with a faint huff. "Didn't you have anything better to do?"

"Is it really so surprising if I did?" He disputes with calm ease. "I'm surprised I'm getting complaints about it. Did you not like it?"

Annie's face is stone though her cheeks blaze with a hotter pinkish-red. "If you're looking for praise on something you finally did right, you won't find it from me."

_That _is the damned closest to a yes he's ever gotten from Annie and the young soldier guffaws loudly. Irritation crinkles the side of Annie's face and she tries smushing the pillow over his mouth again but Armin fends her off and what's weirder is he doesn't care that she gets two good pillow-slaps over his head in effort to shut him up. He's stuck in a stupor of giggling happiness of finally having everything out in the open, in having Annie by his side in spite of exposing how he feels. She's even given him the outcome he thought he'd never get: she hasn't run away.

Armin throws his arms around her and holds this person who is so precious to him tightly to his chest. Annie grumbles inaudible things—most likely curses—into his chest. Hugging her is like cuddling a fussy pet which prefers not to be held and she fidgets the entire way through it but he nuzzles the top of her head anyway and swiftly pecks her temple. To his pleasure, Annie shivers upon his lips landing on her and to his disappointment, it's what has Annie pulling away.

"Enough of this cuddly-wuddly crap." Annie waves off firmly though her face is adorably crimson. "My roommate will be back soon…but that doesn't mean we can't sneak in one more time."

"Really?" Pride laces Armin's cheery acknowledgement. "If I wasn't so dumb, I'd think you seemed eager to go at it again."

"I just like the idea of using a side-whore while I can." She puts him down with a straight face. "I guess I'm becoming a full-fledged MP after all."

"Only if I'm the main whore then." He kisses a spot on her neck which inspires a shudder from her. "I don't think the others will be as quick a learner as me."

"You'll have to work hard to convince me of _that, _brainiac_." _She taunts huskily, sneering. "There's a line and your clever words don't mean _shit _here."

"Roger that." He rasps as he closes in on her.

[X]

He slants his mouth over hers in a heated kiss. They start tame and slow, every kiss soft and savoring. Then Annie grabs the back of his head, molding their lips more fiercely and rolls her tongue over his bottom lip. He opens and damp velvet mingles with his. Armin's mind becomes waterlogged again and the buzz of excitement rings in his ears as their tongues mimic intercourse. Armin carefully rotates their bodies until Annie is on her back and he hovers over her. He kisses harder, sparingly twisting his tongue around hers.

"Mmph." Annie's muffled noise goes down his throat.

Armin retracts for air, their lips parting with a light smack, and he peers down at her through the triangles of his sweat-dampened bangs. Annie's hair fans out like a golden crown on her head and all the definition grooving her pale arms and dividing her abdomen are lined on her body with a marble carver's finesse.

And _don't _get him started on how perfect her legs are.

He dives down, pressing fierce, openmouthed kisses along her jawline, to her neck, her collarbones, swearing all the while how even through the texture of sweat, he can taste the forest berries from where she was raised in her pores. His traveling kisses cross the border to her chest, peck along the incline of a breast before latching onto one, pink nipple, his hand pinching and teasing the other.

A beautiful moan is pulled from her, both her hands tangling in his hair, holding him tighter to her. The hard nipple throbs between his lips and gently, rhythmically, he sucks.

Annie writhes immediately, her legs rubbing together in a search for relief and _fuck_, there must be different tiers for getting hard because hearing her weak whimpers has him throbbing like he's close to bursting. Her hands bury themselves in his bright, yellow locks, holding his head close to her breast as he sucks and toys with her. His lips move to suck her neglected breast while his hands slide over her sides, creeps them through the open space in the arch of her back, runs them down to her firm behind. He cups her buttocks—_squeezes _them—and Annie's ass is like the smoothest, softest rock he ever had the pleasure to knead.

"Stop screwing around." Annie growls but it's more of a desperate whine than her usual razor-edged bite. "If I'm not seeing stars from you fucking me in the next five seconds I _swear, _I won't forgive you."

Static excitement skitters along his limbs. He's dying to be inside her again and he's so hard it hurts but he's dealt with worse. What he's doing is pleasing her and Armin feels gratified in it, ventures to do even more.

"Almost." Armin assures her gravelly and his hands on her rear feel Annie twitch at a tone which surprises even him. "Just bear with me."

His fingertips skate down her muscled belly, down the curve of her hip, until he's between her legs and somehow, the sun is glowing inside him, burns him from the inside out on being near this place again. Armin is mesmerized at the slick dripping from her already, entranced because Annie's soaked and trembling over something _he _did. The tip of his finger peaks inside and glides along the sensitive seam hiding her core and she moans sharply. Annie bites her lip—trying too hard to deny or mask his effects—but the blaze of lust shines too brightly in her eyes. Armin knows what his fingers are capable of and now, he wants to add something new.

The breadcrumb trail of his affection kisses down her navel, then the inside of her thigh until Armin's head is between her legs and he hovers, trying to remember the right spot again. He parts her gently, kisses the top of her cleft where the nub he found is and eagerly, he sucks it. Annie lets out a hiccupped gasp and her leg jackknifes up. Her palm slamming on his forehead lifts him up to face her.

"What the hellwas _that_?" The baffled girl hisses.

"Uh...I was just trying something out." He answers sheepishly. "Did it hurt?"

Her red, perspiring forehead crinkles from thought. "No…I don't know. It's hard to explain."

Confusion radiates from her face and her hand resting on his head is steely but tremors slightly. His thumb strokes the inside of her thigh to ease her. "Sorry. I'll go easy next time."

Annie's pride resurfaces and yanks down her mouth. "I'm not a twig who can be snapped in two like you. Stop treating me like I am."

"I wouldn't dare." Armin obeys with a grin. "You being that way is why I love you so much."

Armin opens his mouth and his tongue drags along her swollen folds. Salt lines his taste buds and there's an immediate "_Ngh_…" and buck of hips from Annie. His finger slips into her and when he curls his digit inside her in time with his tongue lapping her clit, the resounding shout of his name fills the room. She pulses against his finger, wetter than anything he's ever encountered before and Armin gets to work on pleasing her again, dives his finger into her as he licks and sucks her swelled nub.

Above him, Annie is breathless, her pants heavy and quick through every stroke, her thighs moving and flexing against his cheeks. His hair is held tight in Annie's clutches and when she screams "_Aah!" _from a harder suck—tugs on his defenseless roots—satisfied goosebumps ripple along his flesh.

Always, he wants to observe the effects of what he's done. Her insides quiver hungrily against his finger, even more when he pushes in a second and the planes of Annie's body are glowing red like she's sun-burnt. Her silvery hair is matted and beneath thick, lashed eyelids is a heavy gaze which is focused on him, as well.

His tongue must have faltered during his observation because Annie bonks the top of his head. "Don't you dare stop!" She barks.

"_Ow! _Hey, I _need that." _Armin complains against her. He tries to rise but Annie holds his head where he is and fists a tuft of his hair.

"_Damn it, _just—. "A soft, needful sound which is almost a sob hitches in her throat. "I'm so close…"

Eager to please, Armin descends on her again and works harder. He thinks Annie needs pressure and speed to finish so he concentrates on her little nub, swirls the tip of his tongue around the swollen pleasure point at the top of her sex. Her thigh muscles tremble on either side of his head and Annie's pants and gasps become louder. His fingers feel abused at not being used, and as his suction on her intensifies, two fingers slither in damp tightness and pump hard.

Annie arches her back then lets loose a pained shriek. Her legs clench, every thread of muscle taut solid and everything tightens around Armin for a split second of pain. Warmth rushes over his hand and Annie's back sags back on the bed. He slows his tongue and fingers, her flesh quivering and hips bucking into him as she rocks through her orgasm. When she's completely spent, Armin wipes his face and rises.

"You sound cute when that happens." Armin grins childishly.

Annie's panting persists but her hand rises and she flips him the middle finger. Armin roars with high peals of laughter. He kisses above her navel as an apology.

She pushes herself up and runs her fingers through her disheveled, sun-bleached locks. "Just for that, you owe me something."

Her hand wraps around his solid shaft and when her grip tightens, Armin winces: she always grabs a bit too hard. He groans and his eyes shut as her hand works slow, firm strokes against his hot flesh.

She leans over and lustily repeats in his ear. "I told you that you have to work for the number one spot. Don't think this is any kind of help."

She's right. How slow she strokes him won't bring him close to peaking, only has his erection pulsing hungrily in her hand. He pays too much attention to how her thumb firmly and slowly travels up and down the underside of his cock and the feel of her on him paired with the eagerness in her eyes has him caving.

"Lay down." He pants.

Annie listens but she keeps his hardness in her hot clutches. She parts her legs wider and seeing the split of her body so puffy and slick—how she's presenting herself for _him—_has dizziness swimming in Armin's head. His mouth is dry and his senses enter a place beyond coherence.

He straddles her right leg before Annie can move off her side and throws her left leg around his waist. Annie looks to him, confused, until he nudges her entrance—a motion which has Annie biting her lip again and Armin can't help it—he throttles into her in one swift motion.

Annie's lashes flutter and chin tilts back. "_Fuck, _Arlert…"

Her wavering voice and the unforgiving squeeze of her body almost has him release right there but Armin resists, drops his chin and groans. He's so overcome by muggy heat, his body can't think about anything else except chasing after more and it makes him so much more thankful that Annie allows this. With her, he can give in to other instincts his other friends might scowl at him for. He clutches her hip and ass to pull out and slam into her.

Annie groans throatily. "Armin…" He bottoms out from another thrust and her chest heaves with a high, needy gasp. "_Ah!_ _Armin..."_

His hips run on overdrive as he goes as hard and quick as he can, holding her so forcefully, the tips of his fingers turn white. Annie cries out and just when her pitch dies, an even stronger pleasured shout erupts from her. In the back of his head where coherence is dormant but murmuring, he wonders why he's rushing this, why he's risking being too rough.

Was he still mad at her for all she said the other night? Or is he going so hard because Annie prefers him to be rough? No…all of that is there, but it's not entirely the reason. It's that their time is shortening and he's wanted to tell her and undo her for _so long_, he's frantic to have her. Every rut into her has him clamped by strangling heat and for once, Annie is defenseless against him, whimpers little broken noises he's only heard from pleading, hungry pets.

At the same time he shoves in again, his thumb carefully rubs the swollen spot above where he penetrates. Annie's back dips and she yelps—Annie can actually _yelp_. Her leg around him tightens painfully and her nails grate down his pectorals but he doesn't care. He enjoys it when he takes her like this. He likes being gentle too, especially when the light catches her just right and he wants to prolong being close. But being rough has a different thrill—no wonder Annie likes it so much.

The hot irons of Annie's hands rub up and down his chest and Armin groans, grips her tighter, his thumb speeding up on where he thinks she needs it most. Annie bucks to his hip's rhythm, her flushed face twisting from agonized pleasure and watching her writhe and whine has Armin's end curling at the base of his spine, hot and alarming, but he fights it—he won't go until she does. As he dives deep, he recalls Annie gets bored quickly—he should change methods. His finger shifts to drawing quick circles over her clit and Annie wriggles below him, rolls her strong hips in time with his. There's a ripping sound from how tight Annie fists the bedsheets.

"_God_, Armin _yes..." _She chokes out helplessly, her foggy eyes tearing, and that's it, he can't hold back anymore. He thrusts faster, harder and fervently rubs the small hub of her pleasure faster until Annie's eyes blow wide and she releases a strangled scream. Armin gnashes his teeth, her body spasming around him but he pulls out quickly, returns back to how he acted on more shameful nights and pumps until the coiled spring in his gut releases and a flash blasts over his eyes, then he's as gone as her.

Both of them pant like runners coming back from a long sprint. Armin shuts his eyes as he breathes until the chime of white noise stops ringing in his ears. He doesn't want to open his eyes either, because he can already feel on his hand how he's made a mess.

A towel slaps his face. "Wipe yourself off, damn it." Annie scolds. "You've done a fine job of making my bed far from saving now." She combs her hands through her hair and winces as she moves her stiff legs. "_Fuck_. What the hell did you read anyway_?" _

He doesn't remember. Everything Armin did was him acting on whatever his body told him to do. Dry anatomy books, adult novels girls hid behind shelves in the library, and his own imagination was all he had to go off of. But based on Annie's vocal enthusiasm, he'd like to think his indirect "studies" paid off.

Armin regains his senses and becomes nervous he's lost his clothes in the hills of dirty laundry Annie and her roommate have about their room; they really_ should _be tidier. And as for Annie's bedsheets...they really did have no chance of being saved. If there aren't rips and tears from where Annie gripped the sheets too tightly, there are stains from both of them.

[X]

As their breathing steadies and the heat in the room scales down, loud bangs drum on the wall next to them.

"If you two bitches are going keep boning at least be quiet about it!" The neighbor yells. "Some people are too hung over to deal with your shit!"

Armin inches backward from shy alarm and he feels a twinge of regret. The sting evaporates when he sees Annie's wolfish smirk.

"How's that?" She snickers. "You sound so girlish during sex that they think you're my roommate."

"I do _not _sound like a girl." He defends, maybe a tad too insistently.

"Depends on where I get you." She nips his chin and Armin twitches. "You do whine a lot."

"Maybe you just make so much noise that it sounds like there are _two _girls in here…" Armin mutters.

Annie snorts and shoves his head back. A surprised pitch leaves him when Annie flips them and she takes her place on top of him. Her dominant poise has her appearing like a queen staring down from her throne and enthusiasm zaps down Armin's spine, has his hands grabbing her hips.

She smirks smugly. "You're funny when you're testy." Annie leans down until she's centimeters from his face. "You better not stop being so entertaining."

"Excuse me," Armin pokes her firm, lower belly. "A request like that is a two-way street. All you have to do is say please."

"_Shut up."_

"Shut upppp?" He sings out to lead her into saying the magic word.

"No."

"Nooooo?"

Her hands slide over the grip he has on her shapely hips. "You have nice hands, Arlert. Don't make me break them. I'm not saying it."

"That would make me very sad because my broken hands would be the biggest inconvenience for you especially." He smiles, simultaneously genuine and playful. "You go quicker than I do when I use them on you. You wouldn't want to lose such a nice perk, would you?"

Annie bares the side of her teeth in threat but her face turns so _red, _the teasing boy thinks she could spontaneously combust_. _Inside his head, a more devilish side of him cackles but Armin maintains his sweet grin to convince her...for now.

With her attention aimed away, she snarls bitterly, "_...please_, goddamn you."

"Ah_-ha! _Now we're getting somewhere!" He cheers. "We made it through the first lesson!"

The powerful girl who he's enamored with shoves him down into the mattress so hard, it almost hurts but Armin keeps on grinning. "Shut up and pay up, Arlert."

He does and as they go at it again, the two ignore the next wave of pounding and demands for silence on the other side of the wall.

If anything, Annie makes sure she's even louder this time.

* * *

The once lively streets are quiet and dimly lit, the celebration's aftermath reduced to banners and masks discarded on the floor much like the passed-out partiers who snooze there. As they walk to the stables where his horse is kept, Armin rubs his hands over his clothes, ensuring the image of when he left is preserved before he heads back. Thankfully, nothing looks out of the ordinary and no one would ever know Annie tried to rip off his pants and shirt last night like he feared.

"One more question..." Annie begins. She leans against the threshold of the stable's opening while Armin walks toward his horse. "After everything you've told me—your gripes and your…feelings—, how can you just roll over and easily accept that I don't want the same thing? You pestered me for _years_. I'd expect most boys to be furious."

"I already told you I'm not going to push you into something you don't want, Annie..." Armin reiterates gently. "All I wanted was to tell you how I feel."

Her fingers tap against the forearm of her crossed arms. Her next question has her voice low and tense, "...And say hell froze over and I was as braindead as you to actually reciprocate how you feel. What makes you think we'll even do well together? You're weak, you bug me, and you talk too much."

His heart leaps with a sudden hope but Armin finds he is getting better at controlling his expectations.

"Honestly...I don't know, Annie." He answers truthfully. "I'd like to say some of the bad people see in each other can be overcome by the good when they're together...but maybe that's me being too optimistic. All I know is I can't decide for you and I need to give you space regardless of if you're conflicted or not. And if hell _has _frozen over and you're still deciding…then when you're ready—when you think you have everything you need figured out or set up to be tackled—you know where I'll be."

There's a slow, hard roll of Annie's eyes. "The 'I'll wait for you' trope is unoriginal and pathetic."

"And I'm doing it anyway." Armin smiles brightly. "You always were great at dealing with things which annoy you, so I know you'll do great in managing this one well too!"

"Smartass."

"Hm?" Armin combats innocently. "How so? I'm just motivating you."

"_Quiet." _She glares but Annie hasn't kept eye contact with him for long and moves to drill frustration into his poor horse instead. She pushes her hair over her ear and her focused spheres fly to Armin again. "When is the next time you're in Trost?"

Armin looks up from petting his horse's mane. "Uh...I'm not sure. Probably when we come in for supplies but it's mostly at random when we—."

"Then send me a letter when you _do _find out." She interrupts. "We have our own private headquarters in each district. If you tell me in advance, I can set myself up for a training or whatever other bullshit the MPs use to travel to other cities. I'll tell you where we'll meet."

The young soldier's smile rises a little higher. "If that's what you want."

"Would I even bother telling you if it wasn't?" Annie snaps.

"No, you wouldn't." He laughs to himself. "I just wanted to make sure is all."

"_Ugh." _Annie huffs beneath her breath but Armin takes no offense. "Your coddling is beyond annoying so cut it out."

"It's not coddling, just me trying to keep my manners. I could teach those to you too, Annie, since you really need them."

A hard slap to his shoulder and a growl of "Shut it before I give you a fat lip" is the reply he gets but Armin chuckles gleefully. Getting under her skin is quickly becoming a bad habit.

Annie's anger withers away as he guides his horse out of its pen and there's a sudden quivering of her pupils. "Which route are you taking?"

Armin ponders the question. "Same one I took to get here: the gates nearby the farming hubs. It makes the travel time from here back to HQ much quicker."

"No." Annie refuses his plan. "There's been a lot of bandit sightings there and crime has been getting worse all over the other districts at night. I'll take you to another gate." With a twist of her foot, the MP's stallion on her back faces him. "Follow me."

She knows what's best as this is her city so Armin complies.

As they walk the empty streets with his horse in tow, Armin summarizes in his head how he is going to get his story to take flight if asked about his travels. This thriving in underground activity is a good scapegoat for Armin claiming he was helping the Garrison investigate cold cases—he can be nosy, after all. Should he be pressed by higher officials for specifics, he's not above pinning the responsibility to record the forgotten and undocumented details of his visit on officials he knows who get so notoriously drunk, they hardly remember their own names. Honestly, it would be such a shameful display of incompetence and lack of basic protocol practice from public workers, his superiors would see. Armin takes a peek under his collar and warmth prickles the space under his eyes.

He's going to have a tough time explaining why his chest and back are covered in so many scratch marks though...

Fire whips within torches resting on the sides of a lazily guarded gate. They walk past officers playing cards and with one glance at seeing Annie's emblem of the Military Police, the men turn back around and both he and Annie become invisible to them. Armin hops up on his horse as Annie motions for the gate to open.

"This is the safest route and it also puts on display how cripplingly oafish the MPs are." Annie observes as her fellows smoke and guffaw. "How ironic."

"Glad I'm with a hard-working outlier then." Armin beams down at her.

"Your sweet talk won't get you anywhere." She reinforces.

"Not sweet talk. Just the truth."

Annie pulls her lips to the right in disagreement but those ponds storing many shades of blue tell him Annie is far from genuinely upset. As the gate rumbles from activity and opens with a loud, grating _creak, _Armin holds the reigns of his horse tightly.

"Thanks for the help, Annie." He fills the quiet void. "I'll see you soon."

To not waste time, he kicks to motivate the horse and his stead speeds forward. As the frozen wind of night flows over his face and he dares look back, Armin's grin tugs higher.

Annie isn't staring at him from a hidden side glance like she did for so long. As he rides away, Annie's body is faced toward him and she stares right at him until both he and her are out of sight.

* * *

As usual, Annie is already in bed by the time Hitch returns. She stores away her goods stolen from her escapades in her personal closet, uncaring if it's loud because Annie manages to sleep through violently noisy thunderstorms. How that girl _still_ manages to have bags under her eyes with that deep a sleep boggles Hitch's mind.

Hitch dons her pajamas and places the bottle of perfume which she "conveniently" had an extra bottle of on her roommate's desk; maybe, just _maybe, _the short girl can pick up on what floral smells are meant to be used for. She stretches and readies herself for bed then stops.

Her nose bounces from smelling something, a scent which wasn't here last time. Hitch twists her torso side to side again, more closely examining the room. Other than the dry stain on the floor where the tiny klutz probably dropped a bottle and an odd devil mask, nothing is amiss. Hitch scans her roommate's bedsheets, finds they are just as wrinkly and standard as they were before…or were they? They do look a bit crisper, possibly changed recently.

A loud snort whistles through Hitch's nose.

_No way. _She mocks in her head. _Annie's too stubborn to actually listen to my advice._

She ignores it and hops into bed.

* * *

**Wow. I just realized I posted this story about a year ago now. O_o I'm glad I went at this pace, but still, to those who have stuck with this through the slow build up, I give you all the lovies. ;~;**

**Soundtrack**:

**Ahead of the Road – Yutaka Yamada**

**Blood Oath - Benjamin Wallfish**

**Beverly - Benjamin Wallfish**


	16. Chapter 16

**It's been an eventful 100 days, hasn't it…? :/ Yikes. I hope all of you are safe and healthy and continue to be so! Glad I can finally post this after some time. Thanks for waiting c:**

**This darn site doesn't let me link so the name that's stuck in my head for the first scene was Gut's Theme Guitar cover-Max Backman. I love it ;-;**

* * *

Armin follows through on his promise: the letters stop.

Annie feels the tie has been severed—she isn't some puppet threaded to someone else anymore. She is free to do as she pleases and pursue her mission as diligently as she can. She's expecting another letter from Reiner eventually and with the tasks she must carry out, there is no benefit to connection here, would only cloud her mind further. For once, everything is playing in Annie's favor—how she wanted it.

...so why does she still feel like she's drowning?

Her thoughts of Armin are ten times more persistent and Annie's fears haven't halted—they're _worse. _There are other women in the Corps, the ones she knows of having been gifted with great beauty. She's set Armin free of all attachments to her and any man in his right mind would go after the goddess embodiments Mikasa and Krista were praised for being—even Sasha is held in higher regard than her. There's a squeezing twist in Annie's gut, a worry she'll be forgotten, left behind like how she started life: abandoned and alone.

But why the _hell _does she care so much anyway?

Nothing Armin said was her problem. All his goopy crap about love and admiring from afar and consideration for others is reserved for fiction written from people with nothing better to do, not real life. Yet here she is, lying in bed while facing the wall, wallowing in it all. Loneliness caves in the middle of her chest and with each passing day, the hole grows deeper. Annie's felt this aching misery throughout her younger years and it grew to be a close friend, her first imaginary one, really.

She's not happy at having it back.

Annie rises; she needs a distraction. She settles the Balalaika into her lap and experiments, twangs each string a few times until she has a solid feel for each sound. Her fingers glide up and down the instrument's neck, plays to the pace the pick in her other hand creates and Annie's brain shuts off, instinct overtakes, an action too similar to what fighting does for her. She floats and plays whatever she feels is right, and Annie gets faster, tests each sound more deeply, her fingers moving quicker on the neck as the hand holding her pick keeps up.

"You play nicely and all but that thing is like a cheese grater against my temples right now..." Hitch says from across the room. "Could you not?" She turns from her make-up mirror and grimaces. "And couldn't you have picked a prettier instrument? That thing looks like some rejected violin that the other violins cast out."

Annie's upper lip curls, feeling mischievous. She presses her fingers flat on the Balalaika's neck and chunks the strings hard.

Annie keeps up the loud, uncoordinated noise until Hitch's forehead falls into her hand. "Ugh…I _had_ to say something. Can't you just go be a street performer rather than annoy me in here? At least they have the option to ignore you. Just don't forget to bring a cap and give the crowd a wink to get some money out of them."

Annie shrugs. "I don't care about money. All I'd care about is that I can play what I want."

"Ah, but you can impress some walking money bags if you spiced up your performance! A little charisma never hurts." The sun reflecting off the make-up mirror emphasizes the bright twinkle in Hitch's hazel eyes. "I can show you how. It's not hard at all! Hell, if you get famous enough, I'll even help manage you."

Air rushes through Annie's nose. "You'll just rob me blind."

Hitch sticks out her lower lip, seemingly insulted. "Even thieves have standards. I don't loot people who are struggling or clearly came from nothing."

"I hope you keep that in mind when you target who to steal from then. Some of those men aren't stupid heirs who are easy to trick. Aren't you putting in jeopardy what you keep saying you worked so hard for?"

It's Hitch's turn to shrug. "I never take what they miss." She faces the mirror again and glides mascara over her lashes. "It's not like they can't replace a few hundred bucks worth of things anyway."

A long inhale then exhale leaves Annie. "Do what you want but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Miss Glum, if you're going to investigate and judge me then it's _your _turn to take the stand." Annie's gaze transfers to Hitch and her gleeful look mixed with mischief has Annie squinting, suspicious. "You've been playing the same tune for five minutes and I can't help but think there's something on your mind." Her eyes dart to the table then back to Annie. "Got something to do with that mask over there? That wasn't here when I left."

Armin's right about one thing: she's a bad liar and she can't chance Hitch catching on. "If you don't get a mask for free from some drunk, you find one on the ground." Annie responds with a fact instead. "Of course I'm going to have one. Didn't you see how big the festival was?"

Hitch hums ambiguously and Annie isn't sure she believes her excuse or is genuinely thinking. "I guess you're right. Maybe I got ahead of myself. I was excited to see if my innocent roommate got lucky or fooled around with one of the boys here. Boris is an ass but he might not be so bad for you, I think. He kisses the higher ups butts well enough to probably get him a cushy position and one of the houses near the palace gates. That would be a nice place to live."

Annie stops playing. She becomes familiar with the metallic color of the Balalaika's strings before turning to Hitch. "Is that why you keep up this charade then? Just for the pleasure of attracting someone then using them?"

"I take no pleasure in it." Hitch says with cool ease. "And it's never gone as far as you think. If I doubt I have a chance at marrying them, I bolt and take something to make up for lost time. It's just business. I've dealt with enough squalor in my life so why wouldn't I want to shove my financial worries on some nobleman? Hustling gets tiring, you know."

"And that's all it is for you? You're not looking for something more meaningful?"

The lipstick Hitch holds stops at the midpoint of her upper lip. Her head tilts as she faces Annie, the side of her mouth gliding up. "Annie, are you implying I should be hunting for Mr. Right?"

"No. I don't care who you chose to marry or who you sleep with. I was only asking. You don't have to answer if you don't want to though."

"And here I was debating whether to call you cute or silly." Hitch finishes putting on her lipstick then caps it. "Naturally Mr. Right would be nice but all I'm looking for is a comfortable life where I don't have to worry about money anymore. Mr. Right is just a fairy tale anyway and if anyone thinks they found him, they're either blind or impossibly lucky. Why are you so curious anyway?" Hitch slants her head farther down. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Annie quickly looks back at her instrument. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't have time for that nonsense like you do."

Hitch releases an amused hoot and as Annie tries to cancel her roommate out, she overhears the other girl laugh, "Oh, you're one of _those." _then the world is walled off completely. Annie plays for what feels like hours then glances at the clock, snorts angrily afterwards. It's stupid for her to think about him so much—even stupider of her to be _too _curious if the mail had come yet. But there's a winding in her muscles which Annie's discovered only Armin can fix and she's growing restless.

She wants Armin more times than she has energy for, leaving Annie perplexed with herself. Curiosity of sex and intimacy crept in when she pressed Armin and other boys to the ground, when her mind was unchained in dreams, but she was always able to store the urge away—such things couldn't exist on the list of her lifetime desires, after all. Then Armin held her, shared with her just how warm and pure his body and soul is, and the powder keg that Annie never knew was inside her burst.

She can't stop thinking of him now, his touch especially, and Annie plays back the memory of his body, how Armin lacks the muscle-mass other boys have but his muscles are clearly defined, his torso charmingly lean. Her own hands can't mimic Armin's either and if she focuses too deeply on what he's done to her, she'll need to find a place to be alone to take care of herself, something _else _which hardly happened before and is now a curse which sets Annie's teeth on edge. This virus infected everyone else and Annie was proud to not have succumbed to stupid things the girls in her barracks giggled over or boys aimed to score on. Now, she is in exactly the same boat.

She'll make Armin pay for that once she finally gets his letter.

The cramp within worsens and Annie grinds her teeth. Her jaw loosens when she notices the clock: the mail should have come by now. She gets up and when she opens the door, Hitch says, "Annie."

Annie slowly rolls her eyes toward Hitch and maybe—_maybe—_the image-crazed girl will notice how listening to her can be a real chore. Annie's irritation fades upon locking eyes with Hitch.

"If you _do _find someone, I don't mind helping you out." Hitch's smile is small, teasing, but harbors all the softness in the world and Annie is left stunned. "Whether it's figuring out what to say or getting you something to spice up your looks. I just might waive my fee for all that too."

The awkward girl isn't sure what to say. Her eyes dart to the floor, fly back to Hitch, then Annie twists around quickly and exits. Hitch giggles behind the door, leaving Annie more unsure than ever if she was just teasing or if her roommate is more intelligent than she gave her credit for. Either way, Hitch's smile and offer has left a warm, fuzzy feeling in Annie's chest, a feeling almost similar to what Armin does to her.

Annie rushes down the stairs, so deep in thought, she doesn't register soldiers on laundry duty coming up the steps; reflex sweeps her to the right while the others yelp in shock and scramble to not drop the stacks they carry. She fast-walks into the courtyard and Annie's sharp corner-sight spots Boris in a shadowed corner, catches him passing something to two taller, older men and the duo exchanges to him a clumpy, brown package. Selling drugs to the Military Police juniors and officers brings a large profit and an even larger risk and Annie wants no part in being a witness to Boris's second income; she pretends to see nothing. As she reaches the mail office and waits for the postman to return, Annie crosses her arms tightly, taps her foot impatiently on the tile. A sentence which haunts Annie repeats over and over in her head:

"_I love you." _Armin's voice echoes.

She doesn't understand that word very well. It's a foreign language which Annie is not keen on learning, especially if it's making her this agitated and has devastated girls with paper-thick skin. Armin sought after her attention for so long and she gave him nothing but coarse words and doubts and condescension. He had chance after chance to run after someone far better but he kept after her.

How can someone so smart be such an _idiot? _

The sound of the postman returning snaps Annie out of her trance. "Here you are." He hands her a letter with familiar handwriting and Annie's heart leaps.

* * *

"Mikasa, don't worry. I'll be fine." Armin tugs on his saddle, assuring it's on tight. His long-time friend approaches until she stands next to him and he extends to her a reassuring smile. "Everyone else won't be long and neither will I."

"I should go just in case." Mikasa says, visibly worried. "If the Garrison stationed in Trost are as stupid and vicious as the Military Police from the trial, you'll need back up."

"I don't think you want to be around stacks of dusty papers and chugging tea with me all day." Armin chuckles. "I'll literally be in a room in the Garrison's headquarters looking at old police cases. Nothing dangerous."

"But…"

"Don't worry, Mikasa." Reiner who beams with confidence saunters over to the two. He claps Armin's back so hard, the shorter boy has to swallow the inhuman scream clawing in his throat. "I got him covered. We plan to make two supply runs for the day—one for HQ storage and the other for outside the walls. I can stay with him in the meantime."

"That's very kind of you." Armin smiles toward Reiner but inside, nerves knot his stomach. "But honestly, you'd be nothing but bored the entire time. You'd have a more fun time going with everyone else to the supply warehouse."

"Nonsense! I've got your back, buddy. No need to have the lady here fret over you."

Mikasa appears hesitant and Armin fidgets, his face running hot. "Reiner, really, I appreciate it butI don't want to impose on you."

"What's this I hear about another field trip to the slacker division, Arlert?" Armin gulps. Captain Levi walks toward them and his overwhelming presence mixed with Mikasa's death glare shakes Armin to his bones.

"S-Sir!" Armin's ankles touch and back straightens as his superior stands before him. "I received the approval from Commander Erwin to research cold cases in my spare time. Most of our plans are already in place and I wanted to contribute to the drug war effort within the walls while our more capable soldiers run for supplies. I uh, I can't exactly lift too much stuff, you see…"

"I'm aware of all that." Levi says, always blunt and apathetic. "My question is why. Most of the Sons of Fenrir's operations got squashed during the destruction of Trost and finding out more about their status is the Garrison's job. Is researching asshole-missing Titans no longer an adrenaline rush for you? Or have you changed your mind and you'd rather hunt shit-pushers who actually have an asshole?"

Armin grimaces while Mikasa's threatening aura intensifies, probably angry at the Captain's doubt of him.

"N-Not at all sir." His voice starts out shaky but Armin breathes in deep and quick, saying, "I want to go because I can't help but feel tied to the effort in some way. You see, we were part of the group who found their manufacturing site...and the bodies. I know what they're capable of, what harm they can bring to others. Like you said, they're weaker now. This is the perfect time to start looking for more clues and since I have the time, I want to help wherever I can to bring them in and face justice."

"And if you find nothing?" Levi challenges. "These guys are from the Underground. They aren't sloppy and I can't afford having a soldier on the front lines who has their vision obstructed by disappointment."

"Then…I'll have done the best I could. But please understand, sir, my attention has always been to the Corp. This is simply a side-project. One I felt compelled to do when the opportunity came."

Levi's cold stare doesn't flinch or leave Armin. He blinks, slow and thoughtful. "Keep yourself tied to a desk." He responds. "And keep a gun on you just in case. Reiner, have either yourself or someone else watch Arlert as he researches. You never know who's lurking around the corners, no matter where you are."

Both Armin and Reiner pound their fists over their hearts. "Yes sir!"

Mikasa remains mute as Levi turns to her. "Eren's training session starts soon and we need you there to review strategies in the event we're separated from him. I'm aware he lost control back in Trost and if we can avoid it, I'd rather not have to rip him out if he tries rampaging again."

Animosity flashes in Mikasa's narrowed eyes and Armin hears Reiner gulp at the same time he does. Her nod to their superior is rigid, replying, "Understood, sir."

Again, Levi's expression doesn't shift as he aims himself away from them. "See the rest of you at 1900 hours."

Armin feels horrid as he watches Mikasa's face wrinkle from anger, then relax, then contort again; multiple worries must be banging around in her head and he knows how she feels.

"He'll be guarded by the best." Reiner gloats but even when sounding arrogant, he manages to make his words sound so reassuring. He nudges Armin playfully and grins widely. "No need for you to worry, Mikasa. We have his back too."

Armin lowers his head, feeling appreciative and guilty all at once—he wishes he stood on his own more. "Thanks, Reiner." He focuses on Mikasa and smiles as gently as she would if he was worried. "I'll come see you and Eren when I get back. And tell him not to eat my pudding this time! I know he's really tired after training and all but I was really looking forward to it last night…"

A fond smile tugs Mikasa's mouth. "Sure. I'll just give him mine."

"…I don't want you to do that either. Okay, compromise. He can have _half _of my pudding. But not a big half!"

Mikasa giggles, a sound which has Armin's spirits soar. "Alright then. I'll make sure."

"Hey!" Jean calls to them. "We need to get going! I didn't get up at the ass-crack of dawn to get chewed out for being late!"

"Keep your stuffing in your shirt, Scarecrow." Reiner dismisses with a hand wave. "We're coming."

"Stop calling me that, damn it!"

Armin leaps up on his horse with Reiner following suit. He glances down to Mikasa and grins. "I'll see you soon! Don't have too much fun while I'm away."

Happiness finds its way into Mikasa's eyes again and Armin's chest fills, can't refrain from being happy with her. "Will do. Keep an eye out on everyone." Mikasa looks directly at Connie and Sasha. "They'll stir up trouble otherwise."

"I resent that!" Connie shakes his fist. "I'll have you know we only got caught twice!"

"You forgot the other times we went into town and the butcher chased you for stealing his deer meat." Reiner reminds him.

Connie frantically shushes his burly friend, staring daggers into him while Sasha remembers, drools, and Reiner snickers.

As Armin's horse moves to settle next to Jean, the taller boy shakes his head. "You can't help trying to fix everyone's problems, can you? That whole thing was well over a year ago, Armin. We've got bigger fish to fry now."

"I just want to help as much as I can. We can't learn more about the Titans with our two tests subjects gone, but I can learn about the issues in the walls. I might not find anything... but I can try."

"Yadda, yadda, yadda that's all I hear." Jean scratches behind his ear. "Do what you want. I just think you're wasting your time. We deal with enough depressing crap already and I wouldn't touch _that_ topic with a ten-foot pole."

"That's pretty haughty of you to claim, Jean." Connie wiggles his brows suggestively. "You sure you're actually packing something that size?"

"What— "Jean's cheeks turn rose-red. "You _idiot. That's not what that expression means!"_

"One time, Father and I had one horse who— "

"Sasha, _no!" _Connie cuts her off, mortified. "It was just a stupid joke!"

"Okay. But then we also had a bull who— "

"_Stop!" _Jean yells.

"But he gave us a strong herd of cattle for years because of—!"

Jean covers his ears._ "Lalalala! _I can't hear anything because I don't _need these images!"_

Reiner exhales long and deep. "Never a dull moment with this group...at least they make the horse ride more entertaining. Bertolt, when we get into town, you go with the others to help lift the heavier supplies. I'll tag along with Armin."

"R-Right!" Bertolt acknowledges.

"And before I forget…" Reiner ruffles around in his jacket and pulls out a handgun. He hands Armin the gun by its handle alongside a small ammo sack. "Here you go. Careful where you aim that thing now. The shiny end with the opening is the deadliest part."

"...Reiner, I know how to shoot a gun."

Reiner laughs heartily. "I know, I know. I just wanted to lighten you up! For what you're researching, you'll need it."

Armin breathes out a sigh. He isn't looking forward to the research very much but it helps mask his intent. He's been agitated from stress and nightmares eating his mind of falling inside a titan's throat and familiar tinks in metal. But one source who can relax him completely told him a day ago where to meet her and the mere thought of Annie brings a fluttering in every beat of his heart, like it pumps with a cheery spring in its step. He tucks the gun away and the group gallops their way into the city.

* * *

Trost booms with activity. Carriages carrying large boxes of cargo ride along streets while textile and construction workers rush to the factories, all striving to repair the damage leftover from Titans. As the group crosses through markets and weave their horses and supply carriage through the busy streets of the industrious sector, the tower broadcasting the Garrison flag and headquarters' location looms above them. They bring in their horses toward the water troughs within the gates and dismount to stretch.

Next to Jean, Sasha's nose bounces, walks about the grounds like she's following an invisible trail. "Hmm...what's that smell?"

"Don't wander too far, Sasha. The supply run comes first before we browse around or else the old bag at the warehouse is going to take her sweet time with us...again." Jean makes a frustrated noise as he pulls his arm up into a stretch. "Lowest priority my ass. We're only risking our necks for every human alive. That's all."

A sly grin expands Reiner's mouth. "Maybe if you give the lady a wink or put out, you'll get pushed up to the front of the line."

"I'm not taking one for the team but _you _can, Reiner. Everyone thinks you're more good-looking anyway. Why don't you come with us after all? Volunteer in my place?" Reiner chuckles, simultaneously amused and teasing. He refuses with a headshake. "Didn't think so. You and Armin should just meet us at the city gates when you're done. It'll be a pain to lug all this stuff back and forth."

"The butcher shop is about ten minutes away with the produce-mart being three minutes away if I walk fast..." Sasha mumbles nearby. "Leaving me with another fifteen minutes to get to the fish mart which is five minutes away from…"

"Makes sense to me." Reiner agrees. "But my bet is Armin and I will beat you there. The Garrison here should be all too aware of what he's capable of."

Armin shyly directs his eyes to the floor, hoping none of the officers walking around heard him. "Reiner, I'm grateful but try not to be so boastful about that here…"

Sasha says next, "But if I walk _two _blocks down, it'll only take me ten minutes to get the butcher meat and five minutes to the fish-mart if I sprint…"

"Who cares?" Jean says, argumentative. "Let the whole public hear it while you're at it, Reiner. Armin—" Sasha's mumblings rise higher from excitement, and Jean stares at her, baffled. "Sasha, are you doing _math?"_

"But if I take the _left _turn it'll be 2 minutes shorter, buying me more time to see the dried meat then stop by the produce-mart and _then_..."

Jean runs his hands down his face, exasperated. "I swear, every time we come into town we need a bell to put around Sasha's neck. Ya hear that, Sasha? You need a _bell. _That's how much of a pain in the ass you can be._"_

A punch to Jean's nose is a food-hypnotized Sasha's answer and he outcries in pain.

Connie roars with laughter. "_Hahaha! _Good one Sas-!" She stomps on Connie's foot as she walks by him and he shouts, "_OW! Hey, _I was rooting for _you!"_

Sasha keeps mumbling, wanders outside the gate, and Jean yells, "Hey! We have a job to do first! _Sasha!"_

"There's no stopping her now…" Connie slumps, his expression dismayed.

"Good luck!" Reiner sticks up his thumb. "We'll meet you around 1800. Knowing the vendors, they'll take all day so the earlier you can get there and reign Sasha in, the better off we'll be in making it on time."

Bertolt's eyebrows flatten, his frown more disappointed than upset. "Reiner, you volunteered to watch Armin because you foresaw this happening, didn't you…?"

"Of course not! I knew you all could handle yourselves on your own. You don't need me ordering you around."

Armin nervously scratches his head as Bertolt sighs. "Sorry, Bertolt. If I was more of an asset in this way, I'd come with you to help. But…"

The tan soldier shakes his head. "No, you're fine. I get why you want to do this. After what we saw...it's not easy to push out of your mind or not feel a responsibility to prevent more from happening in some way." Bertolt glances down, a shadow which Armin recognizes as a deep sadness eclipsing his face and Armin feels instant guilt, almost wants to apologize for bringing down his mood in some way. Bertolt's eyes lift back up and he smiles, weakly but sincerely. "Not many people volunteer to do what you're doing, Armin. Like Jean said, most people just keep away from it. It's admirable of you. I hope you know that."

Great, now he feels even _more _guilty. This was supposed to be a ploy to see Annie, not an action to be praised…

Reiner claps Armin's shoulder and now, Armin is _sure _he'll have a bruise tomorrow. "Armin is this glorious kingdom's Boy Wonder, right Bertolt? My sword-up-the-Titan's-ass theory may have been wrong, but Armin figured out that a rock plugging up the ass of the wall is the next best thing."

Bertolt rubs his hand on his forehead, seemingly distressed while Connie cringes. "Usually I'd laugh but something about imaging walls with body parts is…"

"_That's it." _Jean intervenes. "I'm ending this conversation now." He pushes Connie and Bertolt forward. "Let's _go _already."

Their two horses are left to rest within the stables as the rest of the group leaves and Armin and Reiner head inside. The Scout's castle headquarters is quaint and relatively well-kept but the interior of the Garrison's HQ is groomed with a more modern design, has a shine on the tile-floor which their castle's old stone can't replicate. Their lobby reminds Armin of a nice hotel rather than a police station as even the wood of the reception desk has a polished coat, is void of any blemishes whatsoever. Once Reiner and Armin reach the two men at the desk, Armin winces inwardly; he remembers these two Garrison members.

"What the hell does the Survey Corp want?" A man with a goatee and undercut asks. The man and his friend both scowl at him the same way, the goateed man in particular giving him the elevator like he had when Armin's refugee-self passed his friends bread.

"Commander Erwin notified your commander I was coming." Armin answers. "I'm here to review some of your case files."

"Ah, these guys." The soldier with a shaved head responds. "Yea we were told you were coming. You're the kids who found that farmer's house, aren't ya?" His eyebrow raises. "I've seen you before? You look familiar."

"No." Armin smoothly lies. "Sorry, but you might be confusing me with someone else."

A mocking sneer settles over the goateed man's lips. "With your haircut kid, no way we could confuse you." The man adds to his lounging by putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "File room is downstairs at the end of the hallway. Door looks like how the inside will look—wood-rotten and dusty. Can't miss it."

"If you could show me which door in particular, I'd appreciate it. I know the Garrison is very busy and the last thing I want to do is walk in on something the Scouts have no right to see."

"If you could find those bodies you can find the door. You kids finding that hellhole has brought us nothing but trouble anyway. Those assholes were only bugging the Underworld and because of you two, they've been bugging us non-stop."

Armin's brows bunch together. "But I thought we were gaining ground on them. Is that not the case?"

"Hard to get to them when they know how to woo the civvies and secure their loyalty." The man's friend responds, crossing his arms. "Bigger rats know how to attract the smaller rats, I guess." The man with the shaved head sneers. "Is that why you small fry came sniffing on our turf? You're trying a little too hard to get on our good side."

Reiner shoots the soldiers a withering look. "This is no way to treat someone who's trying to help you catch these scum."

The goateed man laughs sharply. "Ha! More like undermining our work. Having our investigation taken by upper level assholes is one thing. Being questioned by a kid who thinks he can solve dead cases in a number of hours is a whole other level of fucked." The soldier stands up and exhales a sharp annoyance through his nose. "Now either go do your stupid research or go add to the Scout's pile of bodies already. You guys get in the way of our pay raises."

"Thanks for the guidance then." Armin says, tries to dispel tension with a smile. "I'll get right on it."

The man hrmphs. "And the station closes early today, Corpsmen. So be done an hour beforehand and clean up your mess. We don't want you getting in the way of our business."

Reiner's jaw slightly slides to the side but he responds in a level tone, "Will do."

The two men let loose mock-scolding snickers and walk away, leaving the Scouts in the barren, glossy hallway.

Reiner closes his eyes, sighing through his nose. "Diplomacy really gets annoying sometimes…"

"You know as well as I do that we can't act reckless here. This is their house and the Scouts are already…"

"Yeah, I got that far. We don't need any more problems with the other agencies than we already do." Reiner takes a peek at the men walking away and his nostril expands from a strong snort. "Would have felt good to ask if they're meeting their favorite serving girl in the hog pin though."

Armin can't keep down a chuckle. "I'd imagine so. Come on, let's go."

The two walk until sunlight shining through large, glass windows is replaced by the sway of underground torches. On the farthest end of the leaky corridor, Armin grabs the dusty knob and opens the door. One loud creak later, and bookcases bursting with rolls of paper and books greet the two. It's a little muggy, the gas lanterns are unlit and grimy, sustaining the darkness which hangs over the room.

"Great atmosphere…" Reiner comments, his expression far from impressed. "On top of good police work, they really know how to upkeep their records too."

"You don't have to stay down here with me, Reiner." Armin insists again as he digs out his matches. "I'm surrounded by Police and I'll be in a closed off room the entire time. Sasha may become a handful too—she always saves her money for coming into town. I don't want to waste any more of your time than I already have."

"I said I'd stay, so I'll stay. I'm confident the others will get the job done and you're not wasting my time." Armin closes his eyes, nodding in defeat and understanding. A strong hand takes hold of the smaller soldier's shoulder. "Just so you know, I don't doubt that you _could _get these cases solved in a day, Armin. These guys barely have the brains to solve an old lady's purse being stolen, let alone sniffing out murderers." Reiner smirks. "Get a move on, Boy Wonder. I'll be here to remind you that we're burning daylight."

Armin ducks his head, keeping his face away and he grows annoyed with himself—he needs to stopbeing so shy when someone compliments him. "Thanks, Reiner."

The stronger soldier supportively whacks Armin's back again—cementing his bruise will be _much _larger tomorrow—and shuts the door, leaving Armin with an archive of decades worth of police records. Newly lit lanterns on the walls and on the splintery table light the way as he pulls from record shelves of the most recent years, analyzing notes. He taps his pen on the wooden surface, intently reading.

Some time passes and he is puzzled; there are holes in some of these police reports, conclusions which don't make sense, accusations which don't hold, at least to him. Armin knows he can't afford to be this negligent with his own alibi, is reminded of so as he keeps analyzing and thinks.

He remembers passing by a jewelry store on the way here, Reiner's seemingly on and off infatuation with Krista, the promising threat that they all may die soon beyond the walls. Armin writes down his own conclusions on a new piece of paper while he lines out an escape plan in his head.

* * *

**A/N: Excuse me, Annie. I'll have you know that I **_**do **_**have better things to do than write romance. I'm** **just ignoring those responsibilities atm. :|**

**And Hitch always gave me this sort of Nami vibe—if you are a watcher of One Piece—how she can be mocking and devious but caring. Not sure why but to me, it seems to fit Hitch lol. And let me know if those two men aren't too clear. I couldn't find a name for them so I had to make do. **

**Next chapter will have same *ahem* interesting bits ;X**


	17. Chapter 17

**[X] marks where the sexual content begins and ends for those who wish to skip. If it's not easy to follow along from those points, let me know.**

**This chapter was by far the biggest challenge in this story to complete/get right. This fleshes out that minor spoiler in 125 a bit more so spoiler warning I guess. Thanks hollyweed for helping me iron out some would-be issues! I look forward to hearing what you guys think :)**

* * *

Annie's walk to their rendezvous is humid, filled with the chattering of civilians. While passing through the dirty streets, Annie gives herself a mental pat on the back for stuffing her police outfit into the bag she carries and donning her civilian clothes; hostility would be in these people's eyes then, not indifference. She walks through a market and the banners of the Garrison's Rose Thorn emblem hanging are either burnt or painted over with large, red x's followed by a storm of military warning flyers that all who desecrate the mark will be disciplined. Vendors and civilians who peak into near-empty baskets glance over their shoulders before rushing into homes which Annie doesn't remember being so dilapidated. This section of Trost was pummeled hard by Titans, and even now, it remains war-torn and starved.

She passes by destroyed businesses and homes. Frightened kids and families walk cautiously and Annie passes by a group of men who cart a wheelbarrow of food to the poorer districts, each having a bandanna across their bicep which bears the skeleton jaw of a wolf.

"_The Sons of Fenrir have been identified as the culprit." Shadis had quickly briefed Annie and her training division before graduation. "The drug mule's body had __a gang-affiliated mark tied to his arm—one which looks like a wolf's jaw. That seems to be how they identify each other.__ But should you find this cloth tied around someone's neck then you bed-wetters will get some experience in hauling new cadavers to the medical schools." Annie caught Shadis's quick, mirthless smile. "__Be thankful we have an answer of what happened. Those men up the chain have intensely busy schedules. It's a great effort on their part in how we got this information within one year instead of two."_

Annie wants to snort now like she wanted to then—Shadis's indirect jab wasn't unwarranted—but the atmosphere around her prevents her.

A wolf's sharp, open maw painted on a wall has a recruitment poster in the middle, the teeth bordering the paper dripping red. Graffiti promising change and condemning the Garrison splatter alleyway walls and the contempt crinkling each face when a soldier walks by makes the destabilization painfully clear.

A plague of gaunt faces are Trost's new citizens. Once green-filled lawns she once passed by on lazy day offs are brown and the wood from fences are broken, termite-ridden. She crosses the city square to reach the better side of town and across the way, a mass of people congregate before a line of Garrison members standing in tents.

"That's all we have today!" An official yells. The shelves standing in the back of him are barren and Annie watches people who were lucky to get rations flee quickly. "There's no more meal packages!"

"That's because you're hoarding it all!" A man in the crowd yells. A loud chime of agreement follows.

"We already told you!" Another officer yells back. "We're handing out all we can! The shortages are widespread in the kingdom!"

"_Liars!"_

"You've always wanted to be rid of us since the first time the walls came down!" A woman shouts. "This is your second chance to do it, isn't it?!"

"The drug pushers take better care of us than you do!" A stocky man bellows. "What the hell do you bastards even do every day?!"

The civilian's uproar becomes louder and threats rise up in volume all while Annie watches. Pity pricks her chest. This unrest matches when her trio snuck into the refugee camp, when people fought over a bread loaf barely the size of one's palm. The memory closes Annie's throat.

Armin may have been one of these people, begging for food or lying in wait for passersby like her to drop her guard on her bag and pockets. She wonders how deep he and his friend's desperation had become, what they were willing to do to simply survive one day. Pain lances her heart at the thought but she forces the surge of guilt deep down again. Annie storms into a hotel she made sure wasn't a hotspot for other officers meeting their mistresses and waits for Armin inside a blandly decorated room, anxiously eyeing the clock the whole time. He's late and Annie bobs her crossed leg up and down, impatient.

Ten minutes pass and insecurity tells Annie that her sharp nose rivals that of a witch's.

Twenty minutes and Annie notes she's not particularly gifted in the chest or backside like other girls.

Thirty minutes and Annie regrets not bringing the perfume Hitch gave her so she could apply it now; it's hot and she probably smells bad—hell, _Armin _smells nicer and more clean than she does—and there's not much left to the imagination with her outfit of a long-sleeve shirt, pants, and boots. Maybe she should have asked for somekind of dress-up advice from Hitch, after all.

Fifty minutes and all of Annie's issues count past the total of her fingers and toes. Armin might have realized this already and that's why he's not coming. She can't fault him for it either.

She's not exactly worth all this anxiety he's tortured himself with...

An hour past their rendezvous time, the door opens with a creak. A blond head pokes through the opening—turns to show Armin's face—and Annie straightens up. A part of her wants to snarl at him for making her worry but Armin locking eyes with her and smiling shyly has Annie biting her tongue, senses the prehistoric urge rising from the depths of her. Annie stands up and crosses her arms.

"You're a different kind of brute." She criticizes, ensuring the words seeping through her tight jaw are harsh. "Making a girl wait for so long. I know Eren can't handle women properly but I expected better from _you_."

"Getting an alibi means I actually need to show up…" Armin is nervous but his smile stays, becoming brighter as they keep staring. "Sorry. I had a few issues. I tried to get here as quickly as I could."

She doesn't really care. He's here now. When he locks the door, Annie walks over and unclasps his Scout symbol-stamped belt, works to get it off.

Armin sputters, startled, "S-So much for the manners lessons sticking!" Armin takes her wrists, stopping her. "It's nice to see you too but why the rush?"

"We haven't fucked for days." Annie says in her usual curt way. "Why else do you think?"

Armin flushes hard from an action he must find so gushy and heart-warming but Annie wishes she knew a grosser term to call sex so he can blush harder. Watching him self-consciously clear his throat and focus on the floor in embarrassment is entertaining and intoxicating—no wonder Hitch likes doing this to others.

"Ah, w-well, I'm not going to argue." Armin says. "I just thought we were going to talk for a while first. I wanted to know how you were doing. Plus, I haven't had a chance to take a shower and I had cleaning duty this morning…"

"I thought I fucked the insecurity out of you already. Did you need it sucked out of you too?"

Armin slaps both hands over his face, trying but failing to cover the hot glow in his ruby-red cheeks. _Now _she can sneer pridefully. "Annie..._please._ That's just too lewd for comfort..."

"That's what you get for being late." She tugs him down into a kiss, stays there, and the pleasant zap she needed tingles along her lips again, lights up every nerve. Her voice turns low, husky. "Now make it up to me already."

Armin's pupils have dilated, his lids hanging heavy. Annie's pulse pounds in her throat, unable to look away. His hand rises, catches and strokes strands of her hair between his fingers. "If you want me to stop," he says, breathless, care flooding each word. "If I go too far in some way. Let me know and I'll— "

She yanks him down into a firm kiss. She _knows _how considerate he can be but even if Armin confessed to murder right now, Annie still wouldn't tell him to stop; she needs this relief too much. His hand crept up her back, cradles her neck, and a sweet shiver runs through her, a sensation so alien and spine-melting, Annie flinches, can't be near such a feeling for too long.

**[X]**

Annie pulls away and unbuttons his shirt, flings the open fabric flaps and lays her hands flat on his chest, familiarizes herself with the geography of him; every dip, every curve in his well-sculpted abdomen, of the cut physique his clothes hide too well. Armin makes quick work of taking off his cloak and reaches into his jacket, pulls out something which quirks up Annie's brows.

"You're playing with guns now?"

"Just a security measure when we came in." Armin settles his items on a lounge chair across from the bed and puts his cloak over it. "All of us always have at least a gun or rifle upon coming into the city. The topic I was researching today was...less than stellar."

Annie's confusion must show on her face as Armin takes it as an invitation to continue on. She was listening to him at first then her hearing mutes. There's this strange setting she sees, zeroes in on: the sunset shines through the window, consumes the room with oranges and yellows as Armin explains and an ethereal aura outlines him all the while, the sun reflecting off the seawater color of his eyes, even his clothes. It's bewitching, has Annie wondering if she's sleep-deprived or simply inching closer to insanity; either way, she doesn't know. All Annie and the aching cramp inside her knows is she _wants _him. She pushes Armin against the wall and his eyes widen, fall quickly afterwards, as if he expected this. His head is already leaning down when Annie shoots up, kisses him again.

She's quick at first, more forceful but Armin captivates her, takes her lips long and slow, lingering, exploring each lip, dancing over her teeth, playing with her tongue and Annie discovers Armin tastes like apples—wonderfully sweet, earthy, camouflaged sin. His hand slips under her shirt, slides up her back and down to her hips and Annie expects the death grip of a boy with ferocious need and frustration again. But Armin keeps surprising her. Every move on her is slow, calculating, like every glide of his palms over each patch of skin has a purpose. An impatient noise leaves Annie as his sweaty palms add to the dampness beading on her lower back, rise again to rest over her shoulder blade; his fingers should be shoved up inside her already, _not _idling somewhere useless.

Annie parts, panting, "You always start -_ ha - _too slow."

Armin pulls back with a half-smile, his hot breath washing over her lips, "I guess -_ ha - _I do." His wet lips connect with hers again, his tongue pushing forward to mingle with hers and it's a move which shocks and pleases her.

Armin slides the front of her shirt and bra up, exposing her breasts, and Annie's shoulders hunch; her insecurity is spasming and her face burns feverishly from self-consciousness. But Armin—a boy with frightening brilliance and absurd compassion—notices, pauses. He carefully cups her breasts, their average size fitting too perfectly in his hands, and he gives a gentle but eager squeeze. He keeps kneading—slow but firmly—and Annie's soft, gulping noises ride down Armin's throat as he tends to her chest, the addition of him pinching her buds intensifying the flare in between her hip bones.

Annie's patience is wearing thin and the hard push of Armin's groin against her hip brings back the energetic crawl in her muscles, has her lusting to hold his size again. Her hands rush to unbutton his pants, speed past the border of his waistline and Armin flinches, his hands on her chest stopping. Annie halts herself. They were both frantic and trembling their first few times and they're still getting comfortable with each other; she should probably take this more slowly—he was kind enough to do so with her. They part for breath then rejoin—jaws rolling like shoreline waves against each other—while Annie's hands run down the lean strength of him, her middle finger following the hard divide of his chest and glides up again, moving so smooth and careful, calmly back and forth until her palms don't detect the nervous tremble in the bumps of his abs or fingertips anymore. Her hands slip under the cloth waistline until she reaches the curl behind his pants, slides her fingertips along the smooth firmness, holds the heft of him. Armin presses his forehead to her shoulder, a gurgled groan tumbling from his lips. She curls her hand around his shaft, pumps, and Annie watches as his cheeks blaze as red as a flare gun shot. Arousal and pride blossoms hotly in Annie and she keeps stroking him, glides from balls to tip, squeezing until he shakes against her, his hips pushing mindlessly into her hand.

"Annie…" he gasps and a thrill sings through her veins. "Just so you know, sometimes you—_ngh—_hold me down there a little too tight..."

A lustful sneer twists Annie's mouth. "I'd figure you'd take it as a compliment."

She pumps faster, drawing a louder groan from him. "I do but sometimes it's a bit of a painfulcompliment..."

Annie leans her scalding lips to his ear. "I _dare you_ to keep complaining." Annie takes the undefended shell of his ear between her teeth and bites lightly.

Armin jerks and gasps, "_Gnh." _Annie breathes out a husky laugh that turns into a breathless exhale as he squeezes and pinches her nipples, hard. _Payback_, she suspects, and Annie has officially reached her limit on going slow.

"If I really hurt you that bad," Annie unzips him. "Then I guess I need to help you feel better, huh?"

Armin's eyes enlarge beyond impossibility and Annie drops to her knees, peels his pants down to his ankles, exposing his erection and the long muscles of his thighs. He's _still _blushing and his hands move to cover how painfully stiff and flushed his privates are but Annie grabs his wrists.

"I've already seen your dick before so there's no point in being shy."

"T-That doesn't make it any less embarrassing, especially with you being _right there! _You didn't do this last time!" He averts his eyes, gulps as he returns them back down at her. "And do you even know how to...?"

"It can't be that hard." She snaps but her voice sounds too tremulous to be very threatening. Armin's hair could dye itself red from the embarrassment burning his face and by the warmth building in Annie's own, she could join him; she can't even look Armin in the eye. She hasn't done this before—she's only heard bits about oral sex from tavern talk and from gossip in the barracks—and Annie worries on how to start. What even _works? _How does...how does all of it even fit? Annie moves her hair over her ear, steeling her nerve. "Just relax."

Cautiously, Annie's hand wraps around his base, moves her grip in slow up-down strokes and Armin's hips buck. She experiments, lays open-mouthed kisses down his hot, hard length, the hair at his base tickling her nose and his hands fly to her shoulders, his gasp of her name spreading goosebumps along her flesh. She wants to pull her name from him again. His hands comb through her hair as the 'o' shape of her mouth kisses up, his damp fingers sweeping over her shoulder and twitching as she travels, his touches full of the sweetness he's always willing to give, but Annie wishes he'd stop; his tenderness is wasted on someone like her.

Her eyes flick up, watching the blue of Armin's eyes grow hazy, his eyelids half-lidded like he's a dizzy drunk. She kisses up to the flushed head and pauses—thinks on what to do next; she tongues the wet slit first then sucks his tip, a taste of salt running over her tongue. She slackens her jaw and eases herself down, him hot and pulsing on her tongue, until he hits the back of her throat and she gags in time with Armin yelping, flinching. She's not so sure what else to do except build a rhythm, pull back then slide down, her hand stroking his base. Armin's hand in her hair tightens, loosens more hair from her bun, and Annie is positive she can hear the enamel of his gritted teeth grinding away. Her head keeps bobbing and she becomes lightheaded—she's drooling more than she expected too—but she gets what she wants: Armin groans, whimpers and whines like a needy pup, his leg muscles under her supporting hand trembling constantly.

A rumble of a sigh leaves Armin. "Annie…"

She answers with an aggressive suck and Armin—of all people—curses. Her jaw has to get used to him but Annie likes this, likes how Armin has a clean taste and musk, how he heats up her mouth. She experiments again; she pulls up, sucks his tip, then retreats back down as she strokes his cock from the root to halfway, her thumb brushing his balls. He gasps sharply, startled, and by the severe shaking of his body, Annie gets the clue this is the best path. She sucks harder and pumps faster.

"A-A-Annie, _stop."_ Immediately, Annie backs off and pulls away. She looks up in alarm if she's done something wrong. Armin's hand loosens on her hair then runs down the side of her face, scaring away her tension. "It's not that it's not working. It's working _too _well and... this meet-up is going to end abruptly if you keep doing that…"

Hearing that snaps a chord in Annie. The bubbling, potent urge bends and warps her muscles again, heightens her need. "Get on the bed." she growls.

Annie lets down her hair and removes every thread off herself while Armin steps out of his pants, works off his jacket. She doesn't wait for him to be done taking off his shirt, grabs his collar and he makes an alarmed sound as she yanks him behind her. She pushes down on his shoulders to have him sit on the bed's edge, and as if his mind can read hers, he spreads his knees wide, makes a seat for her. He removes his shirt as she straddles his lap, looks up at her for once, and Annie shivers; his cock pokes at the back of her thigh, radiates so hot, it almost feels like it's burning her. Armin takes the top of her thighs, his eyelids heavy but ocean-blue sparkle with excitement.

Annie's smirk grows. "You would like getting dom'd."

"You'll never hear me complain." he confirms and his tone is lilted with such admiration and eagerness, Annie is jolted by an electric _zap_; she's impatient to have him inside of her again. Her fingers close around his hard length, guides it to where her body cries for him to be and Annie sinks down. His hard cock intrudes her, fills up every bit of space inside her and with a final roll of her hips, a small noise leaves Armin. Annie bites her lip, forcing back a moan. She can feel him shaking under her rear and palms, trying hard to stay still while she adjusts and this pressure she craved derails all other senses, has Annie lusting for _more. _Annie squeezes his shoulders and flexes her legs, rises, feels the slick drag as he slides out and she pushes back down onto him. Armin trembles—gasps out a groan—but he waits for her to set the rhythm, waits for her movements to speed up, then he moves his hands under her thighs, pushes back, drives himself deeper than Annie can manage on her own and everything feral and twisted and in need of a challenge flies through Annie's body, has her slam down on him harder, faster.

Fighting has been grafted into her skeleton—sits far too deep for her to ever change—but Annie is pleased to find her raw aggression doesn't scare Armin. He doesn't flinch when her nails dig into his shoulders or scrape red-marks down his chest and back; he doesn't pull away when she rests her teeth on his shoulder and nips, the pinching of her teeth evolving into a harsh bite which almost breaks skin when they thrust against each other, hard. He hisses but still, he's not like her—he never runs.

"Sorry…" she murmurs, breathless.

"'S fine." Armin smiles through his heavy breathing. "I've been beaten up worse."

A darker side of Annie sneers—wants to test how much he _could _take—but she can't; she's too fond of him to risk scaring him. Even now he holds her close and carefully, like she's something precious. She pushes down harder, his grip on her tightens, and her downward rolls are met by his sharp thrusts. Strained from focus, Annie breathes out, "_Mngh_..."

Every vein has a blistering second degree burn and the body-splitting pressure in her lower belly builds, is so _close _to bursting. Annie drops a hand between them, rubs at the spot where they're joined to bring forth an explosion but Armin is nothing but an attentive partner; even his fingers shooing her away from herself are polite, soft. He kisses the middle of her throat. _I have the better angle _she can hear his rationale speak in her head and a soft whine falls out of her. Armin's thumb strokes patterns on her clit, ignites harsher electric jolts which fly over her nerves and Annie cries out helplessly. A few more quick rubs of his fingers, more harsh colliding which has her sight spotty and her muscles clench, the shrill call of climax finally ripping from her throat.

Armin's thrusts slow as her spasming subsides then halt completely. Her head hangs and Annie falls forward until her forehead hits his shoulder, completely spent. She fights for her breathing back, nuzzles his pulse point all while Armin's hands delicately slide up and down her back.

It's odd how deep dreams can sink into one's pores; the coating of sweat over Armin is sticky and salty, reminds Annie of the salt-glaze left behind after a dip in the ocean. His breathing caressing her neck is cool and gentle, a rhythmic and calm sea breeze, and she wants to be closer. Annie adjusts herself in his lap then winces.

He's still inside her, rock-hard and pulsing.

"You're not done yet…" She mumbles in a daze. "Low in stamina my - _ha - ass. _Where the hell was this in basic training?"

He flushes and a chuckle in between embarrassment and being pleased moves his chest. "I just wanted you to be first. And I wanted to be careful with um...that."

"Aren't you considerate?" Annie says, sounding more sleepy rather than mocking like she wanted. She nudges his shoulder. "Finish yourself off already."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

She's been ready for _too _long. Annie squeezes his shoulders, says by his ear huskily and full of need, "_Yes."_

He turns around fluidly—Annie being kept to his chest—before the mattress meets her back. Armin's forearms bracket her head and her hands slide under his arms to clamp onto his shoulders. He tugs himself out and it should be _criminal_ how slow he goes, how Armin lets her feel each inch slide out before thrusting back in. Annie's head falls back, eyes teary from oversensitivity, from the perfect way his girth stretches her. Her hips roll against his in unconscious demand and Annie quivers when warm hands take her face, the fingers splaying and covering her ears until they're buried in her hair, forcing her head back down.

Their eyes connect.

With slow, deliberate movements, without ever breaking eye contact, he thrusts into her. Over and over, Armin drags himself nearly all the way out before shoving back in and every ram into her has Annie's brain short-circuiting, her body perspiring and sizzling hotly as pressure builds below her navel again. Annie hiccups, overwhelmed. This isn't frustrated ferocity like their other sessions—this is unlike anything else she's ever felt. Armin moves with long, leisurely strokes, powerful, hitting deep and tender all at the same time and Annie _writhes, _arches her back, digs the peak of her head into the pillow. Armin shifts his hips to adjust his angle, thrusts where his lower half can rub her clit, and Annie gasps loudly, seeing flashes of white. Armin plants a kiss to her cheek, her forehead, and Annie feels so attuned to him, the deepest parts of her soul simmer, radiates hotter with every push and pull of him, the molten flood spreading like a balm to her anxious nerves. She feels like she can be breakable to another when she's like this, can _want _to be taken over and put in her place over and over again but by Armin and Armin alone. Here his hips hammers coherence out of her mind and nothing else in the world matters except reaching the finish line with him.

Her back arches from the mattress and Armin traps one nipple into his mouth, flicking the tight bud in time to his thrusts.

"_Armin_.._." _Armin whines, her voice high, so close to what she needs. Carefully, he bites her nipple and Annie shrieks.

He rams into her harder, deeper, all while paying attention to her body and Annie surrenders. Her cries grow sharper, louder, and she doesn't give a _damn _if the whole building hears her; they can _watch_ for all she cares. All she wants is for Armin to keep touching her.

One final time, Armin penetrates so hard he groans in sync with Annie crying out. Pleasure blasts through her like hot, ejecting steam from a Titan emergence, shakes and crumbles Annie's muscles and bones to their most microscopic forms. She feels the quick tug of Armin pulling out, groan out her name and something hot splashes across her lower belly. Her temples prickle as her body stops shaking, slowly coming down as she sails on weightlessness. The sensation of silk from a bedsheet wipes over her stomach, then Armin collapses next to her, their breathing echoing about the room.

**[X]**

As the muggy mist around them clears, Annie sighs. This is what Armin reduces her to when they're done: the anxiety twisting her muscles disintegrates and her trains of thought are empty, stand still rather than race. It's a peace she's so rarely had before. Armin rests on his back next to her as they pant together, half of his sweaty bangs flipped over his partly exposed forehead.

"Aren't you always so careful." Annie says, finally regathering her breath. "Good thing too. The gossip girls led me to believe I'd have to kick you boys off when you're about to peak."

Armin looks her way. His focus is groggy but the side-tug on his lips is warm; there's always a unique softness when he smiles at her. "Last thing you need is me tripping you up from moving up the Military Police's ranks. I've gotten in your way enough times. You don't need a child tying you to me."

Annie shudders. He's definitely right about the kid part—the mere mention of children blasts ice water and discomfort through her veins—but the rest of what he said upsets her.

"Stop talking down about yourself already." Annie can't hold back from snapping. "You don't get in the way of anyone except yourself. You do realize Trost would have been lost completely and the casualties would have been worse without you, don't you?"

Annie's ears blaze after saying that, even more so when Armin's eyes stretch wide at her, surprised. An appreciative smile sweeps across his lips and the warmth in Annie's face reaches her collarbones. "I guess it might have. But eventually, someone else— "

"Not might, _would._ Repeat that to yourself if you have to so you remember." Annie exhales and aims her sight away. "Take credit on something for once."

Annie hears him chuckle delicately and her cheeks keep burning like they're on fire. "Okay, okay. You win, Annie. I'll try."

Both of them are quiet for some time before the back of his hand starts stroking her arm—Annie doesn't have the energy to tell him to stop. It tickles a little but it's nice. Annie's eyes slowly roll over. Armin is fixated on her, admiration and peace all held in his focus on her and she can't tear herself away.

"You don't flinch anymore." Armin says, sounding soft and dazed. "When I touch you, that is."

Annie turns on her side to face him, confused. "Why would I? It's not like you have a chance at hurting me."

"I know." His index finger drifts to her cheek and his pets become slower, rising and falling so gently and relishing of her, Annie holds back a choke. "It's just a nice change from before is all. That's all I meant by it."

Regret bites into Annie's heart. She's fully aware she has been exceptionally blunt and remorseless to everyone—to Armin especially—and seeing how much her reactions have affected him leaves Annie feeling small…and hurt.

On the shoulder she bit, Annie spots bumpy scars where debris had impaled and scratched Armin from a time that felt so long ago. Something bestial must be chewing her heart; seeing the damage he took when trying to help her has guilt sink its teeth into her deeper, explodes razor-pain through her chest so quickly, she winces. Annie leans forward and kisses the largest blemish on his shoulder, staying put for a few long seconds. There is an unfortunate trail of those old wounds and Annie follows it, makes sure she lays kisses on each round puncture and puckered line. Her lips gain their own thoughts as she travels and once Annie reaches Armin's face, she places a gentle kiss to his cheek.

When Annie pulls away, the boy beside her is slack-jawed, his face beet-red.

Defensiveness tightens her jaw. "_What?"_

Armin is stuck on her like some overly impressed tourist—starts grinning as widely as one too—and he needs to _cut. it. out_.

"Stop staring at me like that." She thumps the top of Armin's head and _no, _her strike was _not_ pitifully weak—if he points that out, it's his own blissed-out imagination.

Armin laughs and Annie is shocked her face hasn't melted from overheating yet. His hands fall on her waist and he brings her in, holds her tighter against him. "I can't promise that I will but if that's what you want, I'll try."

"Knock it off with all this considerate crap already..." Annie growls but her arms contradict her demands, wrap around Armin;_ traitors, _she thinks. Once more, she's cocooned in his arms, warm to the absolute brim and Annie finds that she doesn't want to budge. His heart beating against her cheek is steady and Annie almost misses how erratically it fluttered in the beginning but she likes this calm tempo more. Armin is relaxed with her and she enjoys every single second here. Yet there's this wonder rapping against her skull, one which has been growing louder, stronger, always asking to be heard and answered.

"...why?" Annie starts, her voice small and frail. "Why me? Out of everyone in bootcamp, out of even your own friends, why did you go after me?"

Annie's pulse drums in her throat, too anxious to breathe through Armin's silence.

"Hard to say when it started, honestly…" Armin answers, distant. "You clearly wanted to be on your own and people didn't talk to you either. That didn't seem to bother you though. But there were so many days where you looked lonely and sad. Angry too. That day Shadis sicced everyone on you was the breaking point, I think. I knew you wouldn't tell me what was wrong so I thought I could find things which would cheer you up instead. You always performed so well in everything—even when you're not trying—so I didn't understand why you looked so gloomy all the time. Especially when..." By the fond inflection of his voice, Annie can almost hear his smile. "Especially when I saw you spar with Eren and Reiner, people who are so much taller and stronger than you and you tossed them around as easily as you toss me. You were able to stand shoulder to shoulder to both of them—Bertolt too—despite such a difference in skill and physical strength. And I... wanted to be just like you."

The laugh Annie lets go of is light. "You wanted to be a fellow dwarf from my midget village?"

Armin makes a miserable noise. "…I really wish Jean didn't say that so loud. No, not in that way. I only excel in areas where I am on the sidelines. I can barely defend myself and I thought there was no way I could. Then you defied those odds despite being even smaller than me and I thought… maybe I _could_ defy them. You're better than me in fighting and I thought I could grow more by training with someone superior to me in skill."

"Looks like it didn't work seeing how little you grew and how low you regard yourself."

Armin laughs weakly and Annie cringes at herself. For once, she kicks herself for being so good at saying harsh, badly-timed words.

"R-Right...I imposed all that on myself. I see that now. But at least I got to know you more though. You were always kind, even if it was in your own way, and you're beyond reliable—I'd trust you with my life and to have my back. I always thought you were beautiful too. But I didn't know how much more beautiful you were until now."

Annie's heart beats so fast, she can hear her pulse in her ears though she can't resist mocking, "Which bad romance novel did you pluck _that_ line from?You're sticking too close to a predictable script, Arlert."

Armin's quick, high laugh is too close to listening to heart-soothing music. "I got it from the worst one I ever read, just for you. I'm glad you noticed! There's plenty more where that came from too!"

The burners are on full blast beneath her cheeks again but Annie can't restrain a small giggle. Immediately, she feels the blood drain from her face; that's a sound even _she _has hardly heard herself make before.

"But, uh, if you don't mind my asking...what made you notice me? I was surprised when I got your letter. You weren't answering so I assumed you were busy or didn't want to talk. I... I was also surprised when you said you missed me. I didn't...I didn't think you thought about me at all."

Annie fidgets, her self-loathing intensifying. She hasn't seen until now just how deeply this insecurity and uncertainty she's left him with has dug into Armin. She supposes she owes him something after all this time and Annie doesn't have to think for very long.

"Eyes." she whispers, mouse quiet. "I liked your eyes. They're…" Suspicious. Examine everything. Scare her by how long she can willingly stare into them._ "_They're nice."

Chuckles with traces of snark fall out of Armin. "And you give _me_ a hard time about being a predictable romantic. You just named cliché number one."

Annie sneers. "Heh, so I did. Would you then rather me say I was interested in your dick size or that I thought you have a grabbable ass? Because if so, I take back what I said."

"...I mean—if that's true—that's not so bad for _me _to know. But I have a cheesy-romantic checklist I really want to keep up and admiring eyes are on that list...hmm. Let's stick with the eyes complement."

"Fine, smartass." His high-spirited laughs helps the side of Annie's lip rise a little as she regathers her thoughts. "I think you find the good in everything even when it probably isn't there or doesn't deserve to be acknowledged. I don't agree with you on that perspective either...but it's endearing. How you help others and do it with a smile was another thing. I thought you were a wimp and a fake and everything you did was an act to get attention or to climb the social ladder like the other morons. But I was wrong about all of that." She stops. "I'm...I'm glad you proved me wrong."

Armin's arms snake around her tighter, bringing her in closer. Annie tucks her face deeper in his chest in response. "I'm glad too, that you were interested in me. I wasn't sure and sometimes I worry I pushed all this grief on you or I was making you uncomfortable. I made you really upset last time we saw each other too but I'm happy now we're at least...friendly."

_Friendly. _As if that's all he really wants this to be and now _she's _leaning toward them being more isn't such a horrible idea, even though it's impossible. Armin's hand starts smoothing her hair and Annie's eyelids shiver, become heavy from an urge to sleep. She's never had her head touched so lovingly or had fingers she trusted run through her hair. A weightless sleepiness seeps into her mind but stomach-shredding guilt pulls her from the bliss.

She's given Armin hardly any details about herself and he has given her the world of himself. She always takes even when she doesn't mean to and it's not supposed to be like this—_she _shouldn't have been like this. She shouldn't have to always be barred on what to say, be trapped in all of what she must do on this island. Armin shouldn't have to either—he should have been born on another continent, should have been free of their blood and allowed to grow up to be a scholar or explorer, not choose to become this soldier who's suffering with her. She remembers Armin's tales of his family—all the grief and happiness which came with them—and Annie's vision blurs, her eyes stinging; she's the reason why his Grandfather and so many others were culled, the inspiration of why he's a soldier, and with Armin being in the Survey Corp, she...may have to...

"Armin…" She whispers, her voice so cracked and hoarse, it doesn't even sound like hers.

"_Carry out your mission." Magath had ordered Annie and her four-man team years ago. "Come back with the Founder. All of you."_

"Armin, I'm sorry…"

"_I swore to devote __my heart to the resurrection of humanity!" Armin declared before a firing squad to protect his friends. "There is no greater glory than dying for that belief!" _

"For everything I've done that's hurt you, I'm _sorry…_"

"We were both angry that night, Annie." He says so gently, Annie's heart breaks into tinier bits. "Fights happen and everything else said and done is in the past. I'm not worried about it or dwelling on it. I'm just glad we put what we wanted out there."

She's glad Armin has it wrong on _why_ she's reallysorry but he just made the thorn-vine constricting her chest worse; now Annie remembers her knee driving into his gut, her coarse words to him over the years and over his gifts flood her mind. Annie's breathing comes in harder as she gulps, "...I still don't get you. I've been _horrible _to you. How can you keep being this kind to me?"

"I don't think it's me being kind. I just understand you a little better. Based on how you reacted to how I felt about my parents...I figured you know what it's like to be abandoned too. I don't know how or why you do but..." Armin cups the back of her head and his lips press against her crown, so tender and gentle. "I know how you feel there, Annie. But for you to have also been pushed to a point where you were averse to touch, to be confused about how I felt and think I was only nice to you so you'd be a chess piece to play for later. What you must have been through, Annie...I…" _He _sounds to be getting emotional now. "...I can't even begin to imagine."

_That's right, even oh-so-perceptive-you _can't _imagine. _Her mind argues angrily. _Because you still don't understand anything just like I don't. And damn it, you _are _unbelievably kind. How can someone like you feel this way about me? _

Annie's cheeks are soaking wet and her shoulders tremble. The spot on his chest where she lays is slick and Annie curses inaudibly—she can't resist how he makes her feel again.

"Don't cry, Annie...please?"

"_You think you can fulfill your duty like this?!" Father yelled at her as she rested with hands on her knees, desperate for a break_. "_Are you listening to me, Annie?!"_

Annie's chin tucks into her chest, her voice breaking, "No…"

Annie tries to back up but Armin holds her tight to him. "Annie. _Annie."_ Both his hands lift her chin until their eyes lock. His thumbs wipe the tears streaking her cheeks. "We're fine, okay? You're fine. I promise. There's nothing you need to cry about. But Annie, in those times where you do need to let it out or everything feels like it's too much…" Armin smiles, emitting such potent sincerity, paralysis strikes Annie. "Rely on me to hear you out? I'd do anything if it helped you not be upset. Even if I had to look like an idiot to do it, which as you've seen, I'm pretty great at doing."

Eyes resembling the sea which carried her here bore into Annie's. He caresses her face and each fingertip trailing her skin is a lit match, ignites the sutures confining years of violence and fear to her until they singe, evaporate into nothing. In her mind and eyes, there's only him.

Annie grabs and pulls him until their lips collide, muffling Armin's noise of surprise. Annie's jaw moves slow, thinking if she kisses him hard and stays long enough, she'll capture every line and curve of his mouth and this memory of Armin's endlessly sweet and impossibly forgiving-self can live with her forever. The voice which always reminds Annie there is no future hisses, calls her stupid as she extends quick pecks to his cheeks, his forehead, but Armin's lively laughs drown out the voice that's been there since childhood, overflows the hole in her chest which was robbed of any kind of affection all her life. She smiles though not as widely as Armin does. She kisses him, this time her press being softer, chaste, savoring how in this space with Armin here, she actually feels _alive. _

Armin withdraws and Annie's mouth follows him for more but his forehead pressing against hers stops her.

"What was it again…?" Annie asks, her chest moving up and down for breath. "That dumb thing you said which got us in this mess in the first place."

Armin skews his head. "Which one?"

"...you know which one."

Armin blinks, shocked. "You really want to hear it again?"

"What can I say? I'm in the mood for a good laugh."

His chest quakes from a swift chuckle. "If you're sure then."

Armin rubs his nose against Annie's and it's difficult for her to pretend indifference when she likes that so much.

He sighs sweetly, "I love you, Annie. I really do."

That spell of a sentence has Annie go limp, fall until her cheek rests on his shoulder. Back when she was naive to the world as is, all she wanted was to be held by Father—he beat into her the fighting style of his homeland instead, confessed he was wrong when it was too late. Now Armin has extended a different branch of affection and it's strange to Annie, has her tingling down into her very bones; even the doubt always scolding her is no longer convinced Armin is lying.

"Haha...you're too funny." Annie quiets, brainstorms, struggling on what to say next. "I like being around you too..."

Armin's giggle sounds more like a snicker and Annie flicks his forehead. He knows she's not good at this kind of stuff so _no, _it's _not_ funny. Yet Armin's childish grin and arms tightening around her has Annie's chest filling with all the helium in the world and she doesn't want to ever come back down. She holds him back, makes sure she is fastened to him tightly by looping her leg around his waist, ensuring his body is pressed firm against hers. The cush from his cheek settles on the top of her head and her mouth faintly curls up, feeling wholly content for the first time.

She floats and enters dreams with Armin close to her and it's even better than how her forbidden fantasies imagined it would be.

* * *

**Call me a Fool - Perlo**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hope you all are staying safe and are enjoying your summer! :) **

* * *

On most mornings, Annie keeps to a routine: there's a fight against the bricks of misery stamping her to the bed; cold water splashes her face and she rubs, hopes the red she sees is a millimeter less than it was yesterday.

This morning is different. As Annie's eyelids flutter open, a foreign calm has settled in her—her skull isn't weighed down and her senses are sharper, all possibly gained from this sensation of having slept better than many other nights. This clarity is…odd and what adds to this strangeness is Armin's chest isn't her pillow anymore but there's a tickling under her chin, a firm warmth on her chest. Annie's gaze declines and her eyelids immediately droop.

Armin's body is tucked tight against her, his cheek resting in the middle of her chest, his hands on her lower back warm and idling. If Annie wanted to be cruel, she'd say he looks like those needy children who squeezed their teddy bears too tightly and she's not sure how he weaseled his way down without waking her either. She holds back the remark, her mind daring to think having Armin cuddled up against her is comforting, peaceful...and is this a situation where the word cute fits? Armin's mix of strength and uncalloused-softness has a cozy warmth bubbling in her chest, brings pleasant tingles which makes her toes wiggle and curl. She's touched him in places most people crave but having him against her like this—lying silently in this safe place where they're shielded from everything—anything lustful is the farthest thing from Annie's mind.

Annie's hand rises, fingers inching closer to touch him. She freezes.

Armin isn't tainted. Red death coats every groove in her hand and Armin isn't like her; even with all his struggles, he's too innocent for a toxic touch like hers. Annie's hand pulls back, hesitation washing over her. She stops again.

Armin would convince her she's wrong, another side of Annie argues—a side who's louder now. He'd tell her to not worry, to try; knowing Armin, he'd probably go so far as to take her hand and guide her to touch him. The voice of doubt shuts up and Annie lets herself be daring—she runs her fingers through Armin's sweat-dried hair, slides her palm down the hair waterfall on the back of his head. She takes in the back of his neck, his shoulders to the top of his arm—every muscle lean but firm. Annie tucks her forearm under his pit and shakily—her trembling so severe, she could rival a panicky Armin—her hand cups the back of his head, holds him against her. Annie rests her cheek on the bed of his fine, yellow strands and sighs.

The talons of self-loathing and guilt battle against the peace-bubble Annie's in but they don't seep through and knowing so has the girl pull Armin in closer, her hand fisting a clump of his hair. She's warm and Annie notices that the fireplace in her chest who started out so small and hungry has grown larger, rages in the spot where there was once a hole, and she's not scared of it anymore. She nuzzles the top of Armin's head and her mouth aches; she's not used to smiling for more than a second let alone these past fifteen seconds. She's as stupid as him— _far_ stupider than Armin, actually—for doing this, to keep someone who shouldn't love her so close, but there's no other time than right here where she's been so comfortable, completely uncaring of consequences.

"I can't breathe very well when my nose is crushed against you, Annie…" Armin stirs in her grip, a groggy noise leaving him, "Could you loosen up?"

She smirks, "Fine, but you're getting off easy. Next time, I'll start charging you for how often you put your face in my chest."

"...if my allowance won't cover it, stealing isn't so hard," Armin rises and the determination in his calm face almost has a challenging grin lift her mouth, "Neither is gambling. I'll find a way to pay my debts."

"Good because you _drooled _on me too. Either you were dreaming of something nice or you missed me."

"...when you say it like that, it just sounds like a trap even though I really _was_ thinking about both_…"_

Annie hums airily, "Is that so?" she rests her arm on the bed and supports her head with her hand, "Then I'll put you on the spot - what was it about?"

"You really want to know?"

"If I didn't, would I have bothered to ask?"

He chuckles with his kiddish smile and Armin's charm which Annie once found irritating and naive has become so attention-grabbing to her, "Good point. I was having a dream I always have. It's been a little different lately but…it's the same one I've dreamed almost every night since I was small," Armin turns quiet, his focus centered on her collarbone, "Annie, I've been thinking about something. It's a slim chance—it might not even happen and I'm entertaining a fool's thought again—but I want you to hear me out. Will you?" Her head tilts as her invitation for him to keep going. Seawater blue zip up to her, "Annie, I want you to come traveling with me."

"...huh?"

"If we're able to clear the Titans from inside Wall Maria and outside of the walls, if we get to the basement and find the ocean, if we have the chance to go even farther...I want you to come with us. Come traveling with me."

She's taken aback, unsure of how to respond, "…why would you want me to come with you? That's something you and your friends have dreamed about for years. I don't fit in and I'd be intruding in it too."

"To me, you do fit in," he assures her, "Mikasa and Eren will understand too. Eren may see it as a chance to use the rest during the commute as a training opportunity too! Mikasa…well, Mikasa is more mature than Eren. She'll accept it."

Annie's knowledge of the real-world pushes back against Armin's impossible fantasy. Such a thing can't happen—he's a fool for asking _her _of all people to join in—...but Armin can't possibly be told that, "And in this dream-land where you and the Scouts _can_ do this, I take it that's when I'm supposed to leave all my responsibilities behind? Come run away with you and all that other mushy junk?"

"Yes," Armin beams at her, bright-eyed, "Though somehow, I'm starting to look forward to the mushy junk a little more than seeing the sights. That's something I didn't expect..."

Annie can't force down a tiny, entertained side-smile even while rolling her eyes, "Because you seem so excited about the possibility, I'll humor you. Say I did want to go with you. What if the Brigade doesn't let me? I can't just leave."

"Every superior has a skeleton in their closet somewhere. I'm sure I can hold something over them to help you take a year off."

Annie's mouth curls coyly. She lightly pushes against Armin's forehead, "You're absolutely conniving."

Armin's smile is never-ending, spreads wider and the toasty fire within Annie grows hotter, "But you know that already and if it means you get to come with me then I'll do what I can. The other officers would do the same against me if they had the chance. It'll be tough and I'm not sure how long it will take, but…there's a slim chance we can find the answers someday. It's possible that the Survey Corp won't be underdogs anymore and we'll be able to see _more, _explore everything outside of the walls and so much more."

_For your sake, I hope you don't, Armin._

"Only you and Eren could make such a crock of shit sound so inspiring…" Annie mutters, "...and believable."

Armin's thumb runs along her cheek and from his touch, the warmth of every long, summer day which Annie could never enjoy comes back, exists and blooms on the side of her face, "One way or another, we'll get there. Maybe not all of us, but we can try. And Annie...if we can achieve such a thing, I really do want you to come with me."

_You live in an absolute fantasy and I'm dumber than you for wanting to go with you._

"Annie?"

Annie allows a half-spirited smile to rise, "Because you're so good at twisting my arm…" she sighs, "Fine, you've won me over. But you're handling any grief I get from my superiors over this."

"Deal! And remember, it will all be worth it! We'll see oceans and deserts. The land of fire and ice. The whole world could be at our fingertips and we'll see everything we ever wanted. Then after we've seen our fair share, I could maybe write a book about it like the ones I used to read when I was little. I can write about everything after we've seen it all and maybe…"

Armin's face reddens so quickly, one of Annie's platinum-yellow brows shoots up, "What?"

"Nothing." The once enthusiastic boy fidgets awkwardly, a problem flag the older girl has come to notice.

"It's not nothing if you look flustered about it. If you have something to say, say it."

"Annie, trust me, I really think you don't want to hear it. I-It's embarrassing…"

"I've seen you naked—we're naked _now_. How much more embarrassing can it possibly get?"

"I don't know…it just would."

She's tempted to flick his forehead to order him to tell her but the desire dissolves as quickly as it came. Armin has had enough aggression thrown at him and he doesn't need hers too, especially after she apologized for being so antagonistic toward him. She reviews over an idea.

Annie lifts her hand and gently runs her index finger down the bridge of this boy's pointed nose, lightly presses on the inclined peak which she finds appealing...and—oddly enough—cute, "Armin, if something is bugging you again, you can tell me. I won't force you to but I don't want you to be afraid of saying what's on your mind to me either. I know I can be insensitive but I also know to try and not be when you look so troubled."

He's so close, Annie can see the black pupil in Armin's widening blue depths shake, the space under his eyes a dull pink. Annie's hand falls and her thumb accidently brushes over his chin, a move which has Armin's breath catching. Maybe next time, she'll do that on purpose.

The hesitant soldier looks up to the ceiling, twiddling his thumbs, "I w-was um, thinking…" Armin starts, his building nerves shaking his words, "I was thinking that families are nice."

"Okay."

His thumbs keep twiddling, moving so quickly, Annie wonders if Armin's digits will catch on fire, "Have...have you ever thought about a family, Annie?"

"What's there to think about? There's only my Father."

"Um…" Armin's face is so flooded with heat, he could become another burning candle which lights up their room, "I didn't mean in the currently existing sense, Annie. I meant in the...hypothetical sense. Like, have a family in the future."

Annie stares, taking in what he's said. Her mouth then partially gapes and the borders of her eyes feel to have become wider than she's ever allowed herself to show.

She pulls back a little, "Wow, you move _fast._ Is...is that how quick all this is usually supposed to go?"

"You kept insisting so I-I just answered! Plus, I warned you up front that it was embarrassing…"

Annie rolls her sight away, nervous. She finds the stones to swing her attention back to him after a few moments, "...do you think about that often?"

"The thought creeps in sometimes. I think it's just when I feel lonely and I miss my parents or miss how things once were with Eren and Mikasa. I think too that maybe I could have had a younger sibling if things didn't happen as they did. If my brother or sister would look like me or have my Mom's hazel eyes. Other times…" Blue spheres dart to her and hot, anxious blood shoots through Annie before his attention flies away again, "I don't know. Like I said, it comes and goes."

Annie tries to hide it but she _is _uncomfortable. She hasn't planned her life past twenty and once again, what Armin is suggesting is...impossible.

"No," she answers truthfully but sadly, "I've never thought about having a family."

Armin nods, his nature always having him be so understanding, except Annie catches the flinch in his smile, "I understand why you wouldn't considering your position. Doesn't make any sense for me to think about a family either. Like I said, the thought comes and goes and it's been quieter since Trost. I wasn't trying to pressure or sway you, i-if you think I-I was," Armin's hand rubs over his face and lets out an upset _mmph_, "Ah...great. This is another time for you to remember when I made things weird again, isn't it? I'm sorry, Annie. I wasn't trying to be brazen by bringing this up, especially with what you want…"

A smile plays at the edge of her lips, "Don't worry. Nothing is ever subtle with you. I'm used to it."

The pull of his mouth is comforting and to the common eye, Armin's composure is calm and collected. But Annie spots the stiffness in his smile, the way his pupils shake from nervousness and something else she can't place. Annie's smile falls.

When she's around him, the debris field of her repressed emotions feels a fraction less messy and she wants the same for Armin, wants him to feel safe and at ease around her too. But like her, he keeps destroying himself and Annie fears Armin believes he is not just a burden, but also believes there is something wrong with him. She at least knows why her birth parents abandoned her—accepts it even—whereas Armin is still hurt, still has pain leftover from parents he loved while she never had the chance to love.

Annie upturns each memory rock in her head, searching for some helpful advice or gesture Sasha or Krista might say or do to make him feel better, something Mina might do...but nothing she remembers fits her; she'd come across as forcing it, would look and sound too fake.

Annie choses to lean down until her forehead bumps Armin's temple and gently, she rubs against him, "Stop overthinking so much, Armin," Annie surprises herself again—she's never heard her voice sound so vulnerable, so close to pleading, "It clouds your mind and makes you too upset. You've tortured yourself long enough and watching you do this to yourself...bothers me. It makes me feel nauseous. Just relax," Timidly, she kisses the end of one of Armin's thick, yellow eyebrows, "…please?"

There's no stark blush painting his cheeks, just a bug-eyed stare of surprise. His eyelids eventually droop halfway. He takes her other hand idling on his chest, squeezes lightly and Annie returns his hold with the same enthusiasm.

"Okay," he responds, "I'll try. I'm sor—"

Annie plugs his mouth with the back of his hand which is clasped to hers, "And don't say you're sorry either. I'm slow on these kinds of things...it's me who should keep saying sorry."

The boy beneath her moves their entangled fingers away from his mouth, "Annie, I can tell that aside from Trost you've been through a lot. I don't expect you to—"

"_And," _Annie interrupts him again, "Stop making excuses for how I've been acting. Like I said before, I'm a big girl. I can acknowledge my own mistakes and there are a lot. In how I've treated you or what I said to you—everything," her thumb brushes over his cheekbone—another unconscious move which came so naturally, "I...hope you're able to forgive me."

_For that and so much else._

Armin is silent for a few uncomfortably long seconds. He then rests a curled finger over his chin, his cheeks spotted pink and expression thoughtful. He puts up his arms and extends them out into a wide V shape, "I think a hug would help me get there."

"...you're an even bigger dork than I thought."

Ocean-blue twinkle with glee as Armin's smile reveals two rows of teeth, "Yup, a gigantic dork who wants a hug. So? Deal?"

Amusement gusts through Annie's nostrils. Her arms lasso around Armin's neck tight enough to oh so _carefully _threaten death by asphyxiation—a strained noise gasping out of Armin as he repeatedly taps her shoulder to surrender—then she loosens her grip. Annie lays half on top of Armin, entwining their legs as her weight settles on his chest and time slows as Annie holds him, stays connected to the breezy, warm spring weather his soul emits and peace washes over her, spreads pleasant tingles along every nerve. But in the back of her skull, the savagery of duty thrashes, fights and yells to break free, to stop, but Annie ignores the voice, keeps Armin the center of her attention as his arms envelope her, his palm riding up and down the road of her spine. His lips lift for hers and Annie accepts, takes in the texture of him and plush softness of his lips. There's a drunken thrill to this complete wrongness, of enjoying the company of another despite her mission's demands, so let the voice be upset for once, see if she cares.

Armin freezes against her lips. His mouth tears from hers and his head twists about the room. When his eyes fix on the grandfather clock, the whites of his eyes become more visible than the color.

"_C-Crap! _I'm going to be late!_" _he tries to tug himself away, but Annie's legs and arms have wrapped around him and she doesn't budge, "Annie, let go! I'm _serious!_"

"It would help if you gave me the password," Annie says, unenergetic and bored, "Then I'll think about it."

"_Annie!" _

She puts out one hand and bounces her fingers up and down in a gesture to cough it up, "Password."

Armin's lips press into a thin line. His hand grabs the top of her knee, squeezes repeatedly and _hard. _Annie yelps sharply and jerks enough for Armin to slip out of her grip but not before her heel can shove on the middle of his back. Annie overhears a small laugh but it quickly transforms into nervous breathing as Armin scrambles up from the floor she kicked him onto, rushes to pick up his clothes.

"I-I'm sorry, Annie! I promised I'd meet everyone at the gates in twenty minutes! Reiner must already be looking for me too. Oh no…this isn't good!"

"Relax," Annie follows his lead and puts her pants back on, "I'm sure there's a way I can rush you over there," She takes out her jacket and points to the horse emblem on her shoulder. "This will get you a one- way ticket to where you need to be, remember?"

Armin pulls his shirt over his head, his forehead crinkling and mouth twisted with worry, "Annie, I have to be honest with you. I know you wanted to keep this quiet so I didn't tell anyone about us meeting. I finished what I had to do then duped Reiner so I could sneak away. If they find out I was here rather than where I'm supposed to be…"

"I get it. Don't worry. I'll take you to the carriages and order them to take you. You don't need me in the cart with you and I can find my way home. You'll make it in time."

Armin's panicked pupils stop shaking and the tension hunching his back has him straighten, "Thanks, Annie. I owe you one for this."

Annie shakes her head, "No, you don't. I owe you and Trost's military division owes you even more."

This soldier who has grown so much before her eyes gifts Annie with quite a sight, a small smile bearing an emotion she's hardly read off Armin before: pride.

She smirks a little. _About time. _

As the pair rushes out of the hotel and speed-walks the partially empty city streets, both of them see night looms over them. Annie remembers being scared most nights in her younger years, of when she stared into the endless void, saw how the darkness was so expansive and overwhelming, it threatened to fall on her, suck her into a form of bleaker, shadowy madness. The fear still creeps into her sometimes and depending on the day, being here on Paradis has helped her shove the terrors away...or make them ten-times worse.

"I hope I'm not intruding too much, Annie," Armin catches her attention and she turns her neck around to him, "But there was another thing which was bugging me. Mind if I ask?" her que for him to continue is a head-tilt, "Is…is 'that' the reason why you never spoke about your mother? You have a dad, sure. But you never really…" he trails off and Annie knows enough of what he means to fill in the blanks.

"I was born out of wedlock then both my biological parents put me up for adoption," Annie responds, genuinely unfeeling and uncaring, "Small, close-knit villages don't take kindly to children born out of marriage and an affair like I was." There she goes again, sticking to the facts so a person as perceptive as Armin can't tell.

"I wonder how many people in your village were almost born out of wedlock before their parents got married…" Armin speaks under his breath, sounding oddly resentful, "Most of us are accidents. Statistically speaking, I may have been too…but thinking about that is too disturbing."

The rise on the corner of her mouth is barely noticeable or felt but Annie's appreciation for trying to cheer her up his caught by Armin. He smiles back.

"Either way, I'm glad you were born, Annie—I'm glad someone took care of you too. To be left alone but be taken in and raised by someone else…" the smile rounding Armin's cheeks reaches his twinkling eyes, the sight summoning palpitations in Annie's heart, "You're kind of like me."

All Annie can return to this boy who sees everything so positively is a tiny, wistful smile. Armin's happiness fades, "Or…not."

"Your grandfather took good care of you—I'm glad he did. My father…" For a second, Annie's forearms and legs pulse, as if there was a bone-deep bruise still left behind from when she tried to block Father's relentless kicks, "How do you think I got this good at fighting, Armin? Using my imagination?"

Armin's sad expression conveys more than his words or apologies ever could. His fingers weave through hers and he squeezes tightly, "I'd trade places with you if I could, Annie."

Annie's condescending snort is so weak it sounds like a sigh, "Don't say that. You'd be silly to give up the sweet deal you had and you're already dumb for caring about an emotional slug like me."

Armin's hand closes around hers tighter and Annie reflexively grips him back. She mentally recycles her recent words then exhales through her nostrils. Armin's patience and tolerance of her attitude is another otherworldly thing—she's pissing _herself_ off for treating him this way.

"Look…" Armin's focus on her keeps melting the ice which had surrounded Annie for years, even has her fidget, has her struggle to get out the words dancing on her tongue, "I uh...this whole thing..." Annie clenches her teeth. _Out _with it already, "This time with you was...nice. If there was another time you had open...then I'd like to do this again. The sex too—duh—but..." she rubs and clenches her arm to scare off surviving hesitation, "Just talking to you was nice too. It was..." What's a different word than _nice_, damn it? "...relaxing."

Armin stops and stares, his surprise expanding every feature on his face. Shock then shifts into such potent joy, stars could be trapped in his eyes. Annie rushes her sight to the side, her cheeks running hot again.

The crunch of gravel from something approaching her brings Annie's back chin up and his lips are on hers so quickly, her surprised noise runs down his throat. They stay connected, breathe each other in for a few moments, then it hits her — Armin is kissing her in _public. _

"_Armin_," she shoves him back and there isn't horror in his face like last time—Annie sees giddiness and playful mischief. The hot lava flow of rage flushes Annie's cheeks and neck.

"That's _it,"_ she growls,_ "_You've pissed me off for the last time. I'm bringing my cuffs next time so if you try to kiss me in public or repeat any sappy poetry, I'm bringing you in."

Armin is locked on her, blank-faced and blinking rapidly, "...I, um...that kind of stuff has crossed my mind before but I wasn't sure you'd like that, Annie. If that's what you want though, I won't argue."

"You-" Annie wonders if her hair is standing up from how her molten fury grows, flies through her. "And you have the balls to call _me _lewd," Armin laughs even as her hand grips his jaw and shakes his face. "You've got a filthy mouth yourself, Arlert, and it doesn't suit your baby face. I should make you swallow soap."

"I don't know. I think what would really help me learn my lesson is if you take the reins like earlier. Getting dom'd is pretty emasculating for men, you know..."

"_Bull. Shit. _You were more than willing to have me on top of you. And just for trying to be sly, _you _are doing all the work next time."

Nearby, a vendor sweeping outside his store glances over at the two, his frown and confused eyebrow rise hinting he's annoyed—or disgusted—at overhearing them. Annie digs her forehead into her palm, flustered while Armin continues laughing.

Annie puts on her hoodie, trying to hide her burning face, "Congratulations, you've won the crown from Eren. You're the undisputed King of Idiots."

Armin pauses. He straightens up and gives Annie a salute, "Ready to serve."

"Pff_. Stupid."_

A lightning-quick peck to her nose is how he retaliates and Annie outcries from shock louder than she thought she ever could. Armin's laughter reaches a higher pitch and it's easily growing into one of the most pleasant noises she's ever heard – how _annoying_ that it's at her expense. Her hand lands on his cheek, keen to shove him away and make him stop—she doesn't. Her palm stays glued on him, takes in how warm and soft his skin feels. Her fingers are mostly steady, fan out and slide back together a little, and Armin gently rubs his cheek into her palm.

Common sense claws at the back of her head how they're in public—she needs to stop. But Annie's yearning overcomes instinct; her hoodie blocks her face, everyone else on the streets are gone and businesses are closed to meet the curfew. Annie tilts her chin up and Armin bows until their lips touch. This is the second time a shroud of stormy fog and a rabid dog urge don't overtake Annie—she takes her time, glides and reconnects as slowly as Armin as done to her; it's spirit-freeing, bone-melting. She's gaining a preference for kissing him this way.

The distant clomping of boots has the two cadets pulling away. A cluster of soldiers stand outside the textile factory down the street and Annie sees more running through alleyways which wind through the back of the building. Annie cranes her neck to look behind Armin as more soldiers move and yell loudly at each other.

"Is this the Garrison's attempt at a raid?" she scoffs, "They're awfully loud about it."

"I don't know," Armin says, confused, "But I do wonder...before I dodged Reiner, I noticed there weren't many police at the Garrison headquarters. They were even closing up early. Were they corralling all the troops in Trost together? Did they finally find who was raiding the farms?"

Only one thing from what Armin said grabbed Annie's attention, "...Reiner came with you?"

"Yes. I told you earlier—I had to give him the slip and considering the circumstances of it, I don't think he will want me to bring it up when I see him again."

"...right, I forgot is all," Annie aims herself away from the crowd. If Reiner is still lurking about, she can't afford to be seen.

Annie notices Armin stiffen. His brows ruffle, seemingly puzzled, then rise, a realization sparkling in his eyes. He takes one step further, his eyes glued forward, "Hugo…" he whispers, his tone mystified but...happy? "_Hannes."_

Annie glances over her shoulder to where Armin is looking. A rotund Garrison official stands next to a taller blond man. The fat brunette sneaks a hand into his jacket, pulls out a metal flask but his slimmer companion snatches it, the yellow mustache over the tall man's lip pulling down with his frown, "You know them?"

Armin's nod is far more fervent than she expected. "I've known both of them since I was really small. Hannes especially—the tall one. It's been ages since the last time I saw him...I'm so glad to see he's well," A man with a goatee and curled, brown hair above his undercut cuts between Armin's childhood friends and the young Corpsman jerks. So quick as the happiness in his eyes came, it vanishes, "Ah, that man again..."

"Another one? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were some kind of snitch for the Garrison before you joined the military," Annie inspects the man with an undercut and arrogant sneer, "Still, it's weird how as a kid, you of all people befriended government officials."

"They're not bad people," Armin defends, his sentence spoken so resolutely, her vision snaps back to him from surprise, "Hannes and Hugo were nice to us when we were kids, even helped us a couple of times. Hannes saved Eren and Mikasa's lives too. They're just...you know, lazy and selfish." Annie isn't sure if that's an indirect insult at her—she's no different from the two men, after all—but Armin keeps scratching his temple, his palm tactfully positioned to cover his face, "I don't even think that man Eren kicked in the shin is bad either. Just mean-spirited, maybe."

Annie blinks at Armin, "...Eren kicked a government official...in the shin."

"...yes."

"Were _both _of youignoring me the entire time I bothered to teach you something useful? It's insulting he didn't use something more effective if he's going to be so damn daring."

"W-We were just kids when that happened! He was angry and that man didn't exactly say nice things about us refugees. I get why Eren did it—that man was saying terrible things—but..."

"Let me guess, he charged in and almost got you into a bigger stink," Armin nods and strands of platinum blond blow up from Annie's exhale, "Even as a kid he was stirring up trouble. Can't say I'm surprised."

"You've got a squealer in your ranks boys!" The goateed official yells loud enough for them to hear, "The hunt stops here! This is your last chance to surrender peacefully! The entire street is blocked off and you're surrounded by soldiers! Time to join your brothers in the jails! There is no possibility of escape!"

"...he does realize that him announcing all that and wasting time _is _probably letting them escape, right?" Annie observes, irritated.

"I think each Training division differs in the teaching quality and his education might not have been so great..." Armin scans their surroundings. "But look around. I don't think I've seen these many police before for one raid. They even have some soldiers with maneuver gear on the rooftops."

Annie frowns, evaluates her surroundings. The amount of police puts her on edge, anxiety of having been found out sitting in her stomach like a brick. The stupid soldier who yells also keeps droning on and she's fed up_._

"I can see why Eren hit this idiot. I'm tempted to do the same thing. This guy thinks he's putting himself on a pedestal to everyone but all he's doing is buying the criminals time."

"For the senseless murders and food shortages you've induced alongside pillaging government property, you will be sentenced to the guillotine! How's that for motivation?! Come out or we'll drag you out!" The building is silent, withholding an answer. The goateed man strokes his pointed chin and smirks, "Suit yourself then!"

The man so proud of his threats waves his hand forward to direct his troops in. A horde of Garrison gunmen rush into the factory all while the man sneers, takes out what looks like a cigarette pack and retreats into a nearby alley to enjoy. Annie pays attention to the duo Armin grew up with. The two prepare to charge but the fatter friend clasps his hand over his mouth, his cheeks flooding green. He teeters then breaks out into a sprint toward them and Annie's neck snaps forward like she has a sudden itch to avoid eye contact. She closely watches Armin's gaze—how it enlarges then travels to the side. From a side-glance, she watches as the taller, blond soldier shouts and runs after his friend who vomits at the street corner across from them.

"They always did drink too much…" A tired breath gusts out of Armin, "They haven't changed at all. Come on, let's leave them to it. I don't think they'd want me to say hello to them when they're like this."

_Finally._

They show the Garrison their backs and make it a couple steps forward then it hits Annie—an instinct which spider-skitters down Annie's back, shivers her shoulders. A bright yellow flash knives her eyes first. An eardrum-bursting blast shakes the air and ground next, lurching her and Armin forward with their heads ducking. Another roaring blast-wave has Annie covering her ears, the blood in her bones rippling from the aftershock. She and Armin snap their necks around.

The first story of the textile factory is obliterated, overcome with fire and plagued with bricks falling off the support columns. The upper levels are in flames and the police down below are in disarray, panicking if there are any survivors. The building's right-side collapses, the higher floors of glass and brick tumble inward then the upper levels finally fall, the building cannibalizing itself down and down until the destruction reaches the ground and a grey-black dust cloud shoots up high, rushes outward through the narrow streets.

Annie and Armin cough from the thick smokescreen. She can't see anything…but there are noises. There's an outcry from the police, a rising uproar and chant which rises in volume all around them. The sound of a gunshot rips through the air, then a barrage of chest-shaking bullet-volleys follow after. Fight-or-flight overtakes every muscle in Annie's body.

She grabs Armin's hand.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hello once again! It's nice to finally post again haha. I hope you enjoy but I do need to put a warning**—**I've disclosed before how this story can be as gruesome as the manga. This warning also applies to this chapter. **

**Proceed with caution.**

* * *

Her and Armin were born with some imprint promising bad luck - Annie is sure of it.

A brain-splitting ache pulses in her head, there's a high ringing in her ears, and Armin coughs with her as Annie gathers her bearings. She clenches Armin's hand and he tugs back — a guarantee he is ok. That's relieving; she needs to make sure Armin remains close because everything else…

The staccato of gunfire and chorus of boots clomping against pavement grows louder, echoes from left to right, and behind until there's nothing but the noise of mayhem, a noise whose volume rises, sounds to be closing in on them. Annie yanks on Armin and dives into the closest cover they can find — an abandoned newspaper stand the size of a closet. The smoke from the explosion slithers and lingers in the streets like smoky-grey tentacles and while Annie can see a little, the air is a grainy mist. Armin coughs and covers his mouth in succession and Annie does the same; neither of them can afford to get caught. Annie holds her breath and carefully peaks over the edge of the newspaper stand's counter.

Garrison members leap over boxes before the _crack _and ricochet of bullets sink into their cover. More doors of homes swing open and civilians rush out...except black bandanas cover their mouths, and there isn't _one_ which isn't holding a knife or some form of weapon. A soldier running on the rooftop across the way grabs Annie's attention and in time with him running towards his comrades, an attic door is thrown open. A civilian with the same black bandanna covering their mouth leaps out, holds up what looks like the outline of a gun and after an ear-drum shaking shot, a red cavity opens the soldier's back. A soldier from the street shouts, fires back and the head of the civilian swings back, the other half of his face flying off in bits. A hoard of civilian's rush what's left of the soldiers and after loud yells of "_Fall back!"_ and laying down a covering fire into the streets, the soldiers who haven't run yet disappear into the smoke.

Annie's palms are damp and her heart slams against her ribcage. She falls from the edge and upon examining herself, panic grips her chest.

"Get this _off," _Annie stresses, taking off her military jacket, "If they see us with any sign that we're part of the military, we'll end up like the Garrison."

She glances at Armin and finds he has already freed himself of his green cloak and works on getting his jacket off next. The popping sound of guns firing bangs on Annie's hearing again, only now, there are outcries of pain and fury in sync with blazing fire. Panic is invading Armin's expression as he stares into his clothes, his mouth twisting as if out of pain to leave these symbols behind.

"We need to hurry and get off the streets," she's trying to keep calm but the culminating chaos is too much to take in, each variable she can screen for growing every passing second, "Armin, we're in the middle of a riot. We need to _move."_

Her eye peaks around the corner and the crowd of young and old rush away from their street and head toward the northern part of the city. Armin stuffs his clothes in one of the shelves while his opposite hand grips his gun; his hands are shaking so bad, she can hear the wood and metal rattle from where she sits.

Annie takes his wrist again albeit more softly than last time, "Armin, we need to _run. _Save that kind of fear for when we need it."

She's probably appears _too _calm, which is why Armin gapes at her. Annie breathes shakily, makes sure her hoodie is covering all angles of her face. Instantly, she wishes Armin had one too, "Just follow me and don't look back."

Both keep their heads down and sprint down the street as a racket of bullets and yelling and blazing fire invades every space in the air. They make it through two streets until there's a quick, bee-sounding _zip _and Annie stops;three holes explode open the wooden wall in front of them and has the duo lurch back and dive into an alley.

"Shit, _shit," _Annie looks around the corner. At the far end of the smoke-waning street, there are murky balls of fire which are hovering, all of them moving together, all forming a group and are advancing. She looks at the opposite side of the street and finds the same sight approaching them — the silhouettes seen before men and torches.

"_Annie," _Annie's sight follows Armin's pointing to a side door of a home which is ajar; she doesn't wait another second. They run at the same speed and rush into the house, shut the door carefully behind them. The living room is far too small as is the kitchen and the closets in the hallway are too risky; they rush down the hallway instead. The noises outside are growing louder, sound to be nearing the front entryway and Annie's nerves has her heart pounding. They speed into a bedroom and Annie throws open a long closet, shoves Armin in first before she jumps in. They're bunched in the farthest corner of the closet behind racks of clothes which—she hopes— shields them from sight.

"Annie," he whispers, "Do you think maybe a basement-?"

"We'd be fucked either way. Tell me a better place to hide when there's a mob _everywhere_." Armin doesn't answer and the breath she's holding back is let loose in a _whoosh_, "Just...be quiet for now. They'll pass by soon enough."

She can't see Armin well through the darkness and hanged clothes but the high noise he makes sounds to be between understanding and misery. They scuttle around the closet for items until a reasonable box-fort prevents their feet from showing while the background noise is the clomping march through the streets, a symphony which is all too similar to the military parades in Liberio streets, to when she and the others traveled with Marleyan soldiers and entered the battlefield…

Annie grips the clothing over her knees; she hopes the clothing hanging around them blocks Armin from seeing her, how she fights against shaking from unseen winter chilling her blood. The roars and hard march through the streets resumes for minutes until the noise disappears. Soon, Annie's and Armin's haggard breathing is all she hears.

A sharp _crash _jars both of them_; _that sounded like glass shattering. More glass breaks, then one more, then a domino effect of exploding glass and hard hits against wood is all they hear. Annie sits on her knees, confused; the once quieting streets are noisy again, but now there are cries for help, screams and movements she can't tell are from revolters, soldiers, or civilians.

Glass keeps breaking, there are crackling _snaps _from wood giving in, and it creeps closer, closer. There's another burst of glass shattering and Annie's become so sensitive to her surroundings, she swears she felt the floorboards tremor after a loud _crash _and _thunk_. The wood of the floor shakes, and again, there's the rustling noise of boots.

"Hurry up!" a gruff voice commands, "The other blocks are getting raided and there's only going to be so many spoils left until reinforcements come. You three, check out the other houses. I want our pockets stuffed after leaving here!"

The sound of floorboards creaking splits into opposite directions as does the whistling of doors swinging open. All of the noise is disorienting, has panic increasing Annie's breathing to the point where her lungs aren't full enough; she can't risk transforming, she has no weapons on her, and they have _one _gun, one literal shot amongst a mob.

She doesn't know what to do.

The combat-boot-sounding walk travels down the hall, closes in. Annie brainstorms again, grits her teeth at not finding an answer quicker. A rustling interrupts her thinking and Annie blinks rapidly; the open space before her is filled with Armin's silhouette and the back of his light-yellow head. He backs both of them up until she hits a wall and his lower back is against her knees.

She tries to whisper, "_Ar-"_

Armin turns quick, puts his index finger to his lips—she's never seen a fiercer stare from him to _be quiet. _She's tempted to tease his chivalry and boldness, but dread dips her gut; Armin can't heal and he's positioned in front of her like a human shield. Annie's finally made out the outline of what he holds out in front of him too - the gun is aimed at the door.

She wants to _yell _at him to stop but the movement in the house rises, walks toward their room. A rusty _creak _grates against her ears and the light from the hallway fills the crease below the door. Sounds of quick rubber feet and the light under the door shows the shadows of the man moving back and forth in the room.

"_Gah," _the voice behind the door grunts, "Of course, nothing would be here. There aren't even nice shoes. _Fuck._ Maybe…"

Footsteps stomp toward them and Annie is certain she's nearing cardiac arrest. The door swings open and the air in Annie's lungs evaporates.

Annie's eyes and throat are dry from not blinking or swallowing. Her breathing is nonexistent. She can only see combat-booted feet and black, long jeans through the gaps between clothes and boxes. He stands on his tip-toes on the opposite side of the closet, searches through the upper shelf of the closet and throws down what Annie sees are wooden toys, jack-in-the-boxes; he keeps going until he growls.

"_Damn it_. Alright, what about this side?"

His legs turn around until his knees face them and he searches the upper shelf above where they hide. More things topple down - boxes he opens but grunts at finding nothing and stacks of towels. He must have gone through everything as the man shouts, throws down a wooden box which splits against the floor. The man crouches and Annie can see the bandanna over half his face but nothing else. He grabs the outermost box from where they hide. He grabs another then makes a pensive noise

"Say...what's this?" The man leans forward and Annie sees the invader hand creep below the clothes, toward _them_; Annie's hand flinches toward her jacket pocket for her ring and Armin drops his chin in focus to aim but stops midway, and cold freezes Annie's veins.

"_Hey!_" a man yells from across the house. "Boss, come over this way! The woman in the other house has gold and silver! But she and her husband have a knife! We need your help getting them out of the way!"

The man in front of them scoffs, "_Finally. _You sure there's only two of them?!_" _

"Positive! The others had stashed silver but they're already taken care of!"

"Good! We haven't found fuck-all in this house. We're heading out! _Now!_"

His forearm retracts from beneath the hanging clothes and the man sprints off, leaving Armin and Annie alone. There's a cackling from the men before silence comes over the house again. Gradually, the trap doors of panic recede from Annie's lungs and she breathes again. But Armin still aims the gun at the door. His arm is shaking so bad, she can see it through the dark.

"Armin…" Annie says, cautious, "Armin, he's gone. You can put the gun down now."

Adrenaline and fear probably aren't letting Armin hear her. The blade of despair digs deeper in Annie - something's wrong. She shifts her chin over his shoulder enough for her to look at him, "Armin, listen to me. You did good just now, okay? Had you fired, you would have angered their group outside and brought in more looters. We would have been done for. You were _right _to not shoot, okay? You weren't being a coward."

The tension knotting his neck eases somewhat but Armin's body and arm are still locked in place. Slowly, so carefully and slowly, Annie reaches for his hand holding the gun, descends down gently on it. He jerks and she says as gently as she can muster, "Armin, we're okay now. Put it down, alright? Put it down."

It's one of the longest seconds Annie has had to wait, but an assuring squeeze to his hand and some seconds later, Armin's arm muscles loosen. Annie carefully presses down against the gun, leads the muzzle to aim at the floor until it lands and falls out of Armin's hands.

Annie exhales sharply. The words "_You can't help trying to save a damsel in distress, can you?" _itch her tongue but her vocal cords are too paralyzed to move. Armin's shaking eyes bears all the anguish tearing himself up inside and his fingertips dig into the top of his skull.

"Why is this happening…?" Armin's voice is breaking, every word shaking breathlessly out of him, "What _happened?_ _How_ could this have happened? And when did things get this bad? I couldn't...I didn't see this coming. Maybe we were all gone from the city for too long to see...where…?_" _Armin's eyes grow large. His chin tilts up slowly and he stares into the clothes hanging above them, "These...there are children's clothes here - maternity dresses too. This family was stuck in the middle of this madness and the door was already open...so, where _are they? _Are they hiding too? Did they make it out when all this started? And Hugo..._Hannes…_they were near the blast; they were near the mob...they _can't _be..._"_

His chest is rising and falling too quickly, his breathing evolving into erratic huffs and Annie already knows where this is headed. She scoops Armin into her arms, keeps him tightly to her, "You couldn't have known," she tells him, "It was an ambush and a good one too."

"But those people…all of those soldiers..._gone. _And what about everyone else? The family outside, all of these civilians, all this carnage..." his head falls deeper into her chest, his shaking intensifying, "Hugo, _Hannes…_I couldn't see where they went, if they got caught in the blast. They're_ out there_, Annie, and I don't know if they're okay..."

Annie can't think of any words—she doesn't know what to say. She's as clueless as Armin in knowing if anyone by the blast survived except the difference is she isn't tormented by the unknown for loved ones—Annie has felt such a terror only once. She does the only thing she can do for him: her arms wrap around him tighter, holds Armin so close and tightly, her body curls over his.

"One thing at a time," Annie says, quiet and mournful, "We're also stuck in between all of this. Your safety is just as important as everyone else's," _You already know you can't help everyone, Armin_. Annie's lips brush over his temple, "For _once _stop thinking of everyone else and remember yourself."

Armin shakes, seemingly unphased by her words, and Annie can tell by the choked, hiccupping noises beneath her chin that he's starting to cry. As if he should be ashamed, he tries to pull away from her—hides his face all the while—but Annie won't have it. Her arms add ten-times more strength in keeping this suffering boy against her.

But like always, it gets worse.

A scream outside evokes a shudder from the soldiers— a scream so blood chilling and goose bump-inducing, the very moral of human decency could fall to its knees and weep upon hearing it. The noises of lead penetrating skin and wood rise in volume as do the screams and Annie clenches the fabric over Armin's shoulder. Her memories of Marley's war and her near-lynching speed run so quickly through her head, she has to hold Armin tighter, has to keep him at her center to remain grounded. Her head is spinning, her breathing is ragged but Armin is breaking and for him, Annie can't afford to. She rubs the side of her face against his when more glass breaks outside and she struggles, finally finds the confidence to press a kiss to his temple; anything she can do to comfort him and feel safe, she'll do it.

Emotion thickens Annie's voice of the one thing she'll make sure will be true, "I can get us out of this. I'll make sure we'll get out of this."

A pep talk still doesn't get Armin's trembling or hiccups to stop. She tries again: Annie's lips brush over the top of his head—she hesitates first then she presses. Annie does the same to Armin's forehead, his temple, pressing harder each time on anywhere she can reach to help him calm down. She has no ideals - has nothing to protect on this island, and while she is grieved, Annie accepts that what they sit through is the horror which comes with revolt. But Armin is the opposite—his morals and empathy leave him in this shaking, weeping state where he worries for people he doesn't know, for childhood friends and Annie _wishes _she could protect him from all of it.

The bell from a church rings and the originators of the horror outside curse and yelp in alarm—the distress call, Annie remembers. There are hollers to run and the sound of feet sprinting, then once again, the noise around them transforms into still emptiness.

Annie keeps holding Armin until his shoulders relax and his breathing levels out. He backs up; the darkness is thick but she can still see the obscure shine from tears.

"We need to get you out of here," Armin stands up and parts the clothes in front of them, "If that's the distress call, we may have an opening to escape."

Annie squints at him, wondering if he's truly recovered quickly or is avoiding her scrutiny, "I told you to worry about you not me. You're the one with a military belt still on." Armin makes a surprised noise and works quick to get his belt off. Annie's second-long chuckle is faint but enough for his flush to be seen even in the faint light. She steps out of their hiding spot and steps out into the bedroom, "Come on, let's get you to the gates."

They exit through the same way they came in and make a break for the connected alleyways. The air is thick and ashy—hard to breathe in—and it's _hot. _The worst of the flames are blocks away but even while far away, Annie's skin sizzles from the spreading heat infecting the rooftops. Almost everywhere they run, wood crackles as orange-yellow whips clash on wooden roofs, swing back and forth, side to side like some fine dance of swordplay and the flames stretch farther, reach higher until the fiery neighborhood they run from leaves nearly half of the industrious sector in blazes.

They get past a couple of blocks and enter the neighborhood of the Garrison's military housing. A firm press of Armin's hand against Annie's shoulder has her pulling back and slowing down. They move to hide behind garbage piles. In front of them, a heavy-set, bandana-wearing man lugs a large suitcase out of a damaged home with a young man — his son or companion maybe? The younger man flinches in alarm, reaches for the rifle on his back but the middle of his face is drilled through by a bullet first. The body collapses and the large man shouts, spins around; loud bangs follow and the man spasms from each bullet drilled into his knees then neck. The large man falls back and Annie and Armin watch as three other men with the same bandana run up and take the suitcase, gauge their surroundings with their gun's muzzle and knife's razor edge.

"They're turning on each other…" Armin murmurs next to her.

"The opportunists are," Annie corrects him, "But where did the rest go?" Her head swivels around, takes in the atmosphere. She grows more nervous, "This is _bad_, Armin. Our superiors are going to ask us about this—where we were, how this happened," her breathing catches in her throat. "Will you…?"

Armin's face is pained and his smile is weak, but somehow, his sunny reassurance remains, "Even if I wanted to tell them about us, Annie, the fact remains the same: I lied to everyone, twice. That's not a very good look for me, especially starting out in the Corp. There's a lot of confusion and chaos to use and if that's what I have to do..." he pauses then sighs, "Then that's what I have to do."

Annie looks at him solemnly before nodding. For the millionth time, she wishes Armin found someone else to have this fling with—he'd be happier…she thinks. When the men leave with their spoils, she glances around the corner. The street is clear of anyone alive but there is enough left over for her breathing to shudder.

On the steps of a home with a broken door lies a woman, her throat opened and the curled body of a lifeless toddler within her arms. She isn't the only one. Alongside bodies of mask-wearing rioters, men, women, and teenagers lie gored and gutted next to them. The words _Liars _and _Thieves _are painted on the street floor and walls and Annie is nervous if the paint is truly red…or if it's from someone else. There's a _smell _too, of cooking flesh and spilled blood—she would vomit if she allowed herself too.

Annie twists around, steels herself. She faces Armin, "Run at the same time I do."

Armin gives her a puzzled look, "Why?"

"Just do it," Annie motions him to her side so her body blocks the worst of the slaughter leftover in the streets, "We'll dodge a chance of us being separated..."

His glance up to her implies he doesn't believe her—Annie knows it—but he follows what she says. With Annie using her body as a barrier against the violence, the two crouch-run across the street and into the next alleyway. Enough of the rioters have dispersed, allowing them to run three more blocks through blood-spilled streets. Then they hear gasping. They skid on the street from stopping and dart behind a wide crate. Annie peaks around the corner and Armin does the same on his side.

Teetering like a drunk down the street is the goateed man Armin recognized earlier. His side is cut up badly and blood dribbles down his chin. He collapses and groans, rolls onto his belly to drag himself forward. The neigh of horses is heard down the street and Annie realizes that if they're near the stables, they've almost made it to Trost's main gates. The stable gates open and horses are brought out...but Annie's brows furrow: these aren't men of the military.

"Lookie what we got here," a man with an obnoxious cackle points out.

More men exit with horses until a man in a trench coat and fedora exits last. A bandanna mask which is similar to the rioters covers his mouth and nose but the focused blue in his exposed eye is piercing. He walks over, stops in front of the soldier who drags himself and as the others gather around this man, it's made clear to Annie: this man is the leader.

An explosion in the distance jars the injured soldier and Annie and Armin. With great pain, he looks back to where they can't see. His eyes enlarge and the leader follows the soldier's sight. The well-dressed man snorts, "It's a pitiful display, isn't it?" his voice is low but smooth, "To be so desperate for justice, you'd accept any story so long as you're given food, a job, and a body to pin the blame." The man's lone blue eye rolls over to the soldier, "Thankfully for us, you military folk are too easy a scapegoat."

"Mercy...please," the goateed soldier coughs up red dots and strains to lift his head. "We were just following orders. My family..."

"I know. But your orders had you interfering with my distribution - _again -_ and if the business in Trost is lost for me, I'll make it so it is lost for you too." Dark snickers lift the henchmen's chests. The foot of one goon nudges the goateed man's injured side and he shouts in pain. The leader's steely gaze doesn't waver, "It's not dignifying to whine over a wound you could have prevented. All of you lived through one crisis and you still didn't bother to learn or act on your surroundings." the leader crouches down to the whimpering official's eye level, letting lose a deep sigh, "But I'm not you - I won't bore you with any more tedious monologue before I kill you. Admittedly, one of your brats has earned my respect - they had the decency to put my mule to rest rather than leave him out in the woods to rot. I suppose it's only fair I do the same to you even though the citizens are itching to tear you apart. That's mercy…isn't it?"

The soldier's breathing comes in quick and fast, panicking. The leader rises, snaps his fingers, and Annie quickly slips back behind the crate. A shriek, an ear-ringing explosion of gunfire, and a splash on pavement all follow after each other. Cautiously, Annie peaks around the edge again.

Red polka dots decorate the henchman's clothes but their leader has backed up, ensuring the cleanliness of his trench coat. He adjusts his face-mask, the skin around his eyes scrunching out of apparent disgust, "Get the horses ready. There's more than enough distortion for the police to lose the scent on us now and it's only a matter of time before more troops are sent in," The leader turns toward an ear-pierced man with messy brown hair and a black bandanna over his mouth, "Now that we've settled things here, let's resume our tour of Stohess, Lou. Our mole in the MP has corroborated your claim that selling our product there is more lucrative than it ever was here. I'd also like to observe how tight of a grip that gentleman has on his territory."

"_Gentleman," _The man named Lou repeats with a cackle, "Ya sure got a weird way of talking about the competition, Wald. Not like any other drug lord I ever saw."

"Don't make the mistake of breaking character again," Wald snaps, "We're simple hired thugs now. And it's _seen, _not saw," The sides of Lou's eyes wrinkle from a blocked frown. Wald presents Lou with his back, "Let's go and hurry up on cleaning up that mess. I gave the man my word."

One group drags the body away as the remaining gang members and Lou follow their leader down the street and around a corner.

Annie sighs out of relief and frustration. Her life has been a cursed mess ever since they came across that farm house and Armin has been dragged in with her. Armin must feel the same way: shock widens his eyes at being mentioned by the drug lord and Annie grows worried.

"Are you alright?"

Armin nods despite being deathly pale, "I-I'll...I'll manage." His shaking hand holding hers grows tighter and Annie winces like she's been stabbed: she hates seeing him like this.

She gently tugs on their clasped hands, "Let's get a horse. It'll make the journey quicker."

They rush into the stables, only to find all the horses have been taken by the departing gang. She and Armin check every inch of the premises just in case; still, they find nothing. Annie's jaw aches from how tight her teeth clench. Every time there's a chance to run, it's taken away. Now there are no horses, it still hurts to breathe, and there's a clopping from what sounds like a horse in the background. She bows her head and, in her mind, Annie screams, "_What _now_?!"_

"_Armin!" _Their heads perk up. Annie and Armin sneak a peek between the wooden bars of the stable windows. Bertolt is outside. His sword is unsheathed but his military gear is also discarded like they had done earlier. He haphazardly inspects his surroundings, "Armin! Are you here?!" He trots in circles, back and forth down the streets and with every passing second, Annie watches as the fire highlights the gloss of Bertolt's eyes. His head falls and his voice becomes choked, "Armin…"

Annie stares at her fellow Warrior, her eyes wide.

This is it. This is Armin's chance.

"What are you waiting for?" she presses him, "_Go _already."

Armin's nose and mouth twist about his face, "I can't just leave you here. I have to make sure you get to safety too. The gates are—"

"_Go." _she insists again, though this time, far more sinister-like, "We can't be seen together, remember? I would have to leave you anyway so don't make me kick you out of this stable."

"Annie_..._no._" _

"We're arguingabout getting you to safety here. Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Criticize me all you want. I'm not going."

The frustration turning down Annie's lips has Annie kicking herself; her irritation doesn't work on him and Armin has proven that time over time. She takes in a deep breath, calms herself down.

Armin tenses from her hands moving to his shoulders but she pulls him in until his forehead bumps with hers, "You're too smart to dodge this chance," Annie tells him in a softer, hushed tone, "Especially if it's for me. I always know what to do, remember? When else will you be this stupidly lucky on getting out of here?"

Armin struggles visibly; Annie bets he doesn't like his own words being used against him either. Annie could grin and tease him if they weren't so short on time. Armin sighs. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her in for one of the tightest hugs he's ever given her. He kisses her hard and she clutches his shoulders, her fingers sinking into them. After they part, Armin reaches into his holster.

"Take this," Armin guides the gun to her and Annie's hand pulls backward, "Annie, _please. _If I'm going to take this chance, at least take something which I know will keep you safe."

She makes a face, warring with herself. Annie supposes this is a form of exchange for her having convinced him to go.

Armin gives her shoulders one more squeeze before they fall away, "I'll send you another letter to make sure you're safe."

Annie's chuckle is swift, hardly noticeable to most except him, "I'll try not to be so slow this time."

Armin gifts her with his bright smile one more time. Then he runs out, shouts Bertolt's name down the street. Almost immediately, the horseshoe clatter returns to the outside of the stables. Annie observes through the wooden-barred windows; she catches the relief in Bertolt as he yells almost too happily, "_Armin!"_ and stops in front of him. Both of them are so alike in compassion, a prick of warmth touches her chest from Bertolt dismounting, lifting Armin up as he pulls himself into the saddle before Bertolt mounts again and rides off.

It's comforting to know she isn't the only one of her group who is compromised; Reiner is just as guilty as her and now she sees Bertolt too. How they were going to do the rest of what they are tasked to do and keep pushing the guilt and regret into the deepest parts of themselves…

Annie contemplates the gun in her hand for a long moment. She closes her eyes and sighs, walks out into the street.

She hopes she never becomes that desperate.

* * *

Armin is relieved to not be running through ash-thick air anymore but it doesn't ease him. As Bertolt's horse escorts them through the city, they pass by an unsettling decorative display of butchery—a torso wearing a jacket of the Garrison hangs over a butcher shop and freshly torn limbs are set on pitchforks along the road in an almost medieval fashion. Mixed in with all these horrors is that _smell _again_, _of flesh burned down to marrow and dirty, stray animals who eat what's left of soldiers or civilians—possibly even the rioters themselves.

It takes all of Armin's will to not throw up or pass out.

"I realize now I shouldn't have been so worried," Bertolt yells over the background noise of the church bell and fire. If Armin was correct, he almost sounded cheerful, "I should have guessed earlier that your smarts would make you go to the stables, Armin."

"Ah, that's…" Armin drifts to the black soot staining Bertolt's clothes and the sweat damping the entirety of his hair, "I also could have trapped myself if something went wrong. I was just running since it's all I could do...I just hope you weren't looking too long for me, Bertolt."

Armin is so close, he can hear the faint whipping of Bertolt's hair from his headshake, "Even if I did, it would be worth it to find you. We all came here together. We're leaving together too," Armin's arms around the taller boy's torso notice how he tenses before relaxing, "All of us have been through a lot together. We're not just comrades, Armin…we're friends."

The smaller Scout stares into his fellow soldier's strong shoulder blade. He feels light and just like how Annie being near him does, Bertolt's words soothe him, cancel out the images of murder and fire eating at his brain.

It's nice to remember he's managed to do this—make friends outside his own friendship circle, something he doubted he could ever do on his own.

Armin smiles, "And I'm glad to have a friend like you, Bert."

The main gates of Trost soon come into view. Relief lets Armin sigh as they ride up to the gates until his brows bunch again. The soldiers behind piles of sandbags and large canons rush and draw their guns on them.

"Identify yourselves!" One of them yells. Both he and Bertolt become nervous— neither have their uniforms on. "No identification, eh? You two have balls to approach us after the _shit_ you pulled. Seize them!"

"Knock it off you _idiots!" _a voice yells. Soldiers nudge to the right and left as someone pushes their way through the crowd. Jean pops into the open. "They're who we were looking for! Put down your guns!"

The Garrison members frown, examine them once more, but reluctantly listen. Jean runs up to them with Reiner, Connie and Sasha not far behind as Bertolt guides the horse past the barricades. Armin smiles, relieved. He dismounts to Reiner approaching him.

"Reiner!" Armin chirps, "Thank goodness. I'm glad you're-"

A large hand grabs Armin's front and yanks him forward until Reiner has him held close. His neck bends down to stare him dead in the eye, "What the_ hell_ happened, Armin? You tell me you'll be in one spot the next and then in the other you're gone. You had me and everyone else worried for _hours._ Where did you run off to?"

Armin's gut dips. He ducks his head out of regret for what he did and what he does now, "Reiner, I'm sorry...the Garrison were stumped on a case and they pulled me in because I was there. There was no time to wait for you since they needed me as soon as possible. I went with them a-and the next thing I knew…" he pauses for both genuine dismay and for enough effect to convince Reiner and the others.

"Well, we found you and that's why we stayed behind," Jean says, "But Reiner, you're one to bitch to Armin. _Both _of you scared the hell outta us! It took a while to find you too. Where the fuck did _you _go?!"

"...kind of the same thing really," Reiner grouses, "Hoodlums tried to rob a store when curfew hit. I tried to help too and-" The strongest of their group shakes his head. He releases Armin and massages his forehead with one hand, "Doesn't matter. I'm sorry for grabbing you, Armin. I've been standing here worried for too long and it got to me. I... I thought I failed you when you needed me most."

Misery squirms Armin's lips, "Sorry guys…I really am. I never expected..."

"Stop that already," Jean snaps albeit a tad kinder than his usual orders are, "You're fine."

"Hey…" Sasha says, her voice edged with tension, "That in the distance...is that what I think it is?"

They turn to where Sasha and Connie's attention is and Armin remembers this was the same direction the soldier who was shot had his sights fixed on. The ends of Armin's eyes expand.

The tallest building in town is in blazes –the Garrison headquarters Armin was at hours before. Fire shines through the pristine windows, the well-kept roof crumbles and is scarred black. On the flagpole brandishing the Garrison roses on the tallest column of the building, fire slithers up like a crafty snake, bites its flames into the flag. Armin squints when he spots movement far up on the walls across from the Garrison HQ; he sees soldiers rushing to line cannons and aim it toward the building.

"Haha...guess Armin being dragged into a new task wasn't so unlucky after all, huh?" Connie laughs, nervous and sweat visible on his temples, "If he didn't…the mob would have…" Their friend halts himself, focuses on the floor.

In the darkest of ways, Connie is right—he might not be here if the riot happened earlier—but knowing that doesn't help the ravenous swirl of horror and guilt stirring Armin's gut.

Connie glances at him then to Reiner; his smile is shaky but sincere, "I'm glad we found you two. And I'm glad I followed yours and Jean's lead, Armin. I'm...I'm starting not to regret my decision more. I'd rather fight brainless monsters than have to face...who did _that_."

Jean murmurs in agreement and Armin nods. Reiner says nothing. A dark shadow eclipses his features and Armin can practically hear the chords in Reiner's neck straining and flexing, "Let's just get out of here already."

As they mount their horses and say farewell to Trost with their backs, they hear cannon fire. If anyone else is as horribly entuned with their surroundings like Armin is, they hear the screams too.

But for the sake his and Annie's secrecy and safety…neither side can know they were used. Armin fights back against the anvil of misery dragging his gut down. He and his horse rush forward.

* * *

**For those who read the latest chapter...:") :") :") Until next time!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Me? Updating under a month time-frame? What is this blasphemy. **

**Watching Annie's OVA Lost girls would help understand this next bit but I believe I've explained it enough in this chapter for those who haven't seen it to follow along. Enjoy!**

* * *

"I was on my way back to the gates." Annie informs the investigator sitting across from her. "Trying to get to a carriage to take me back to Stohess. That's when..." Her own memory of the textile building falling and bullets tearing through civilians passes by her eyes, "I had to hide out in a house until the worst of the riots passed. I found a stray horse from there. The rioters probably let them go or killed the rest of the horses so no one could run."

"And you saw nothing else?" The Military Police officer presses her, his expression stern, "You didn't see any of the culprits? Didn't see anything odd when you were passing through the gates or on your way here?"

"I didn't see anything."

"The Commander has flowed down to us that the Sons of Fenrir owned that textile factory. We also discovered they were paying off officials in all three military factions to withhold that information for years. Odds are those men manufactured some of the Military Police clothes and snuck out. You didn't see anyone who looked suspicious or out of place?"

Annie shakes her head, "Like I said before—I saw nothing."

The investigator pauses, nods. He takes his time penning down his notes in his books. Annie sits back in her chair, clacking her nails on the table's shoddy wooden polishing. She's tired and is actively fighting against the heaviness of her head and falling eyelids, "Can I go now? I haven't slept since I came back and you've kept me here for over 24 hours now."

The man resumes writing for another minute, like he didn't even hear her. He sets down his pen, clasps his hands together, leans toward her. Black eyes hardened by the unsavory investigative tactics of the Police are glued on hers, monitoring and judging her like Annie does to him. The other officer behind her is dead-silent and the room fills with silence and tension, grows heavier and heavier. Annie wonders if this is their way of saying the walls are closing in—they _know _she's lying and this five-year charade she's been upkeeping won't fool them anymore.

She doesn't even flinch.

"Of course. You may go now." The man stands and tucks his notebook under his arm, "Though there is one thing." Annie quirks a brow as the man motions for the soldier outside to open the interrogation room door, "The Captain wants a word with all of you. I suggest you fall in line with the others, cadet."

Annie eyes the man oddly as he departs with the soldier following close behind. When she walks out into the corridor, a line of cadets—bleary-eyed and rustled awake three hours before dawn—travel down the corridor to the lower level dungeons. Annie follows them until each rookie stands outside the prison bars of a large cell. Out of everyone else in the crowd, Annie stands next to Hitch and Marlowe who are as half-awake and confused as her.

In the middle of the cage, a tall man of medium build is chained to the chair and the other is a blond kid who wears the same outfit they do—it's Boris's friend, a fellow cadet. The cell door is thrown open and Annie and her troupe watch as folded piles of laundry are carried in and set on a long table.

Their Captain picks up a set of folded military wears, holds it out to the crowd of rookies, "You all know what this is, yes?" The cadets exchange awkward glances at each other, confused, "This looks like all your undies wrapped up nice and neat, doesn't it? The people who were on duty for this really did a fine job." He lets the clothes fall and they land on the floor with a slap and an ever so slight _clunk. _The space between Annie's brows pinches. "Sounds odd, doesn't it?" The tip of their superior's boot slides the shirt to the side, kicks the cloth-flaps over. In between the folded clothes is a small, brown package, "What do you all think that is?"

The room goes deathly quiet. Their superior's glare and scanning of everyone's face births a tension so smothering, it's like a noose is slowly tightening against one's neck.

"We knew the Sons of Fenrir infiltrated Trost but to find a mole within our ranks leaching off them and pumping their filth into our city is...disappointing. Even by our standards," The Captain points to the broad-shouldered man behind him, "We found this man unloading cargo which hid this filth then found contraband and money from someone who was one of _you_. A supposed 'comrade.' How none of you detected a rat amongst your own peers should shame you—you're supposed to be the best and brightest of your regiments, aren't you?"

Annie doesn't care and Hitch appears dismayed; Marlowe, on the other hand, seethes. Even from where she stands, Annie can hear the harsh grit and grind from Marlowe's clenched jaw.

"But rather than just imprison these two," the Captain continues, "We thought we should show you what happens when you aid and abet troublemakers."

"This is the first test of your wills, kiddies." The second officer scowls. He slips on a set of blood-encrusted, brass knuckles as he faces the terrified cadet. The Captain next to him does the same, "If any of you look away, don't expect breakfast."

The _wham _from a right hook to the boy's cheek knocks out a tooth, has the other juniors around Annie flinch and yelp. The other officer slams his wooden knuckles into the older man's nose and he grunts, coughs. They strike the prisoners when they get an answer they don't like, bark more questions at them—the officers also keep punching when the prisoners provide no answers. Minutes pass and blood has speckled the floor, has eroded the microscopic patience of the interrogators.

"Talk damn it!" Wood knuckles drill into the young man's cheek. The shuddering of breath and shaking from metal zippers on clothes chimes all around Annie, "Think we wouldn't eventually weed out your little network, huh? You smuggle your shit into _our _shit? You scum have got some balls. _Talk!"_

"It wasn't me…" the younger boy gargles through his wheezing, "I-I don't know how that stuff was in my room. It— "

A punch to the cadet's gut silences his words but not his outcry of pain. The older man is more resilient; with every _crunch_ of his nose cartilage and _wham _of wood against bruising skin, he doesn't speak whereas his accomplice sobs. Meanwhile, all the cadets observe, shiver in their spots.

"The kid does something shitty so he's beaten for it..." Hitch judges with a tremoring frown, "All without vetting an alibi first. What kind of stupid point are they trying to make? This will make him talk for _sure._"

"If your stomach and resolve is so weak then look away, Hitch," Marlowe judges her back, "These slime bags perpetuated the food shortage and now soldiers and civilians are either wounded or dead. The civilians of Trost don't even believe _us_ anymore. They think these wretches gave them the opportunity for justice," Thick, black eyebrows narrow harshly, "A beating is the most benign thing these two can be given at this point. Why are you being so defensive of traitors anyway?"

A wry smile spreads over Hitch's lips, "Call it my 'professional' opinion. If the person is going to plant evidence, they should at least have the accused match the crime. That kid is an arrogant prick but he's harmless. But I wouldn't expect _you_ to see that, Marlowe."

Hitch jerks as the boy the same age as them is struck again, cries out. She bows her head, noticeably distressed.

"Look at the wall or above the head if you can't look at them in the face." Annie recommends.

Hitch hesitates, "Does that help you?"

"No. But maybe it will help you."

Another _crack_ of bone and a howl has Hitch slamming her eyes shut, "...you two are made of something else. This is _disgusting_."

Hitch pales with each passing second while Marlowe's harsh beliefs downturn his lips fiercely. Annie doesn't need to try to keep up her usual expression: calm and undisturbed. This is how it is, even back home. She sneaks a quick glance toward Boris who witnesses the beating at her side.

Boris is subpar at his poker face; there's an ever-so slight tremor in his jaw, a focus in taking advice he likely overheard—he's staring above their fellow cadet's head. Annie's eyes dart back to the prison cell when Boris shifts to her - the sixth sense everyone has to someone starting. She wonders if Boris is scared he'll get caught for framing his friend or maybe he's distracted by an even worse thought, distracted by the same thing Annie wonders—could Boris foresee this? She saw him pass that note to those men in the alley days ago, the supposed "mole" who said the Military Police identified them and passed the info to Trost to deal with. Didn't Boris have the foresight to know such a leak could result in such devastating consequences? Annie wants to say yes, but like everything else in this life, she isn't sure. For all she knows, it was only Boris's way of getting money quickly.

"Where have your buddies run off too, huh?" The Captain interrogates the boy, frustrated and panting, "There's more of you hiding out somewhere. You fucks are like a damn cancer. We scrape you out of the Underground then you just spread out into the other districts."

The other officer clutches the older man's shirt collar and shakes him, "_Talk! _Or you'll be submitted to torture like the rest of your scum friends!"

The drug trafficker's shoulders shake—he's chuckling. He inhales deep then a glob of red spit splashes on the officer's cheek. A _wham_ from a fist lands against the side of the man's face, knocking him to the dirty, prison floor. His fat lip worsens and purple eye bleeds, but he keeps laughing.

"I said _talk, _you _mother-_." One officer pulls the man up by his hair and yanks back to look at him, a move which forces the prisoner's mouth open. Both of the MP's heads jerk back, "Ah _shit."_

Annie and every other cadet notice and there is one girl in the crowd who shrieks: the man's tongue has been cut out—a promise he would not divulge any secrets of his group. His gurgled chuckles become harsh, gut-deep laughs and he does it all in front of the Captain's face.

The pair of soldiers yell and move in front of the man, striking and kicking either because they lost another chance at getting information on the other gang members or the trafficker is annoying them. Again, Annie doesn't know. This is simply the way some interrogations go and judging by their group, Marlowe and her are the least affected.

Annie wonders how Armin would have reacted to this—he might have stepped in front of the officers, even for such a foul person…actually, maybe Armin would have allowed a beating until it was clear that a line had been crossed and he understood physical harm had no further effect; she would do the same thing. Thinking about Armin has the small girl's eyebrows and chin fall—it's only been a day and she misses him. She knows Bertolt would have guided him to safety but that side of her still aches, worries—she won't be satisfied until she sees for _herself_ that Armin is alright.

Maybe she'll write the letter first this time.

The two MPs wrestle to get the man back up and block Annie's view as they lift his limp body. The man grunts when placed back in the chair and as the men move to the side, Annie's heart stops; she can feel the air brushing against her ever-widening eyes.

She doesn't see the drug trafficker anymore; she sees Father sitting in the chair, limp, bleeding, and toothless.

"_If what the current holder of the Female Titan is saying is true, then this is quite a bind you are in, Mr. Leonhardt." The Captain has transformed into Zeke. He stands before her father, strikes a match against a nearby wall to settle the flame under his cigarette, "Annie always was adept at gathering information. But fornicating with the enemy...that's just treasonous."_

_Father's grin is shaky but haughty, grows wider as a dark chuckle leaves him. "Like you two weren't some hormonal teenager," he cackles, his voice rough and tired, "Don't tell me you didn't get up the skirt of someone you shouldn't have when you were young."_

_Magath's knuckles ram into Father's jaw. Father wheezes as Magath fingers crick then close into a fist. "Of course, it happens." The general says. He's calm; always calm. "That's how your daughter exists in the first place, Mr. Leonhardt. But Marleyan philandering was never with a Paradisian. If anything, you Eldians hate those island devils more than the rest of the world. But even for someone as aloof as your daughter, her doing this puzzles me," Magath crosses him arms tightly, "This whole situation is disappointing. I viewed Annie as an intelligent and fierce fighter, not some floozy who couldn't keep her legs shut."_

_Father's expression flinches but he laughs again, this time weaker, "Like I said...kids do stupid things, just like us adults. You can't kill me because she finished her duty for you _bastards_. We're Honorary Marleyans and you two are bound to protect me under Marleyan law." His breathing is haggard as he stares at the ceiling. A wet shine glosses his eyes, "Annie succeeded...brought back the Founder. She came home...she came _home_ and you..._you_ don't get to _sully my daughter's memory!"

_Father rushes to stand but a thwack of Magath's forearm to the back of Father's neck throws him and the chair he's bound to down to the floor. Magath's boot crunches on Father's head, pushes him farther to the ground but he struggles, his scowl ferocious as he wriggles with anger. A gust of cigarette smoke blows out from Zeke's lips._

"_I'm sympathetic, Mr. Leonhardt," Zeke says, his pity genuine but too silk-smooth for Annie's comfort, "Truly, I am. But your daughter's successor is quite a big mouth and is eager to please the brass. I wouldn't be surprised if all of Liberio has heard of Annie's treachery already. Then there is the issue of our allies discovering a Warrior had sexual and intimate relations with an Island devil. We can kiss their added military strength and funding good-_bye_. I was excited to make a few toys out of those funds too..." Zeke scratches behind his ear. "What a mess we're in. Magath, Marleyan status or not, I don't believe I need to tell you what needs to be done here."_

_Magath frowns deeply, "For you to even suggest you'd need to do so is insulting. Has your declining life finally eroded those priceless brains of yours, __Boy Wonder__?"_

_Zeke bows his head apologetically but his eyes remain calculating, cold, "Not at all. I'm simply emphasizing the gravity of the situation, sir." _

_Annie's rapid heart could erupt through her chest as Magath shoves a magazine into his handgun and racks the slide back, cementing the gun is loaded and live. _

"_All of this is such a shame, really," Zeke laments as Magath moves his foot and aims the barrel of the gun at Father's head. "Annie worked so hard too."_

"Annie? _Hellooooo? _Annie!"

There's a hard, repetitive poke in Annie's left arm, "_Hello, hello, hello?! _Earth to Annie!" Hitch inserts her face in front of the smaller girl. Annie blinks rapidly. Everyone is gone and the only ones remaining in the room are Marlowe, Hitch, and her. "What's eating you? You went from flour-white to ghost-pale quicker than Marlowe loses a date."

Marlowe harrumphs, "Duty is lost on everyone these days. If a woman doesn't find organizing military records important, then she wasn't worth my time anyway."

"Marlowe, that girl I set you up with was by far the loosest girl in the MP and she still dropped you. _That's _saying something."

"Bah! If she is a friend of yours, all the more reason for me to be rid of her."

Hitch shakes her head while Annie remains silent. She has to take in small, controlled breaths, compose herself carefully. Fatigue must be playing tricks on her mind.

"...I'm fine." Annie finally responds, her voice quiet, "Just...tired. I haven't slept since I came back."

Hitch's brows lower, scanning the smaller girl. She sighs and her always fluffy, brown hair sways with her headshake, "Whatever you say. At least this shit-fest is finally done. I need a nap and a hot shower. Maybe that will get all those nasty images out of my head."

Annie's feet move for her in following Hitch while her head whirls.

Father's bruised face is what could happen if the wrong memory floods into the next Female Titan holder's mind. The chance is slim but it's a _chance _and all these years spent on this island would have been wasted. There's no such thing as mercy in Marley and everything is at risk because she let herself indulge in living as she's so often nagged by her roommate. Now...she's created a threat against the only family she has, has to abandon what she didn't mean to create.

What she's doing to Armin...it's no different than what her birth mother did to her and Annie feels _filthy._

Hitch shoves a letter into Annie's chest before seeking refuge in the showers. She flips over the letter and the bridge of her nose pinches—the sending address is from Trost. Tearing open the top, Annie pulls out the letter and recognizes the writing immediately. It's a boring tale about life in the Survey Corp, one where clues are hidden in paragraphs: this is from Reiner. Annie reads, notices the mention of an expedition beyond the walls, how Reiner feels anxious and wishes she was there to help Bertolt and him be more prepared to win. Annie's grip tightens around the envelope.

She's about to hate herself even more.

* * *

To say Hitch's favor is annoying is a gross understatement — _tedious _doesn't describe it well either.

Annie travels to see a merchant who is searching for his missing daughter— Carly Stratmann. Annie then scans through the towering books of the MP document storeroom to find any information on her and her readings lead Annie to some mangy edge of the slums where thugs eye her body, try to touch her, but the wrist she grabs is her trophy before victory. Imposing a dislocated arm and several internal bruises later, Annie doesn't get Carly but finds out where her lover is instead.

She plans out the rest of her day and rests on a bench in front of a fountain for lunch. An unpleasant shiver rushes over Annie as she eats. It happens at random but Marco's face invades her focus; so do the bodies of those who were eaten, shot, and burned all throughout her life. But in this never-ending mission, her death count will grow tomorrow, and this time, it will be the Survey Corp. More blood will thicken her hands and knowing so worsens Annie's nerves, has her confused on why she's acting like a soldier and bothering to help Hitch find this girl when the end is so close.

Recalling Armin's gaze is what pins Annie down from worrying too much. She recalls how his fingers fiddled with her hair, the soft, linen feel of his skin on hers. It's absolutely vile but even with the promise that she may be his end, Armin's closeness is what helps push away the worst of what she sees in her head.

Annie stands and resumes her tasks.

She finds the empty apartment of Carly's lover quickly. A buzzing instinct has her searching the man's closet and she finds a stash of drugs he kept. Then her senses bite her again. Annie goes on all fours, peaks underneath the bed and the lover of Carly says hello with wide and dead, glazed eyes. Her panic almost exposes her but she composes herself quickly, flees back to the carriage when the street and apartments are silent. The headaches of today don't _end_ when Annie reaches the carriage; she's taken by surprise by a group of thugs who wait for her. They look familiar and then this _idiot _with spiky hair takes _her _ring. If she has to, she'll kill him first.

As she's held captive in the moving carriage, the fedora-wearing leader performs mind game _crap _but Annie bears it if it means getting the upper hand. This man named Wald is smart, catches her in each bluff she puts forward to gain leverage; "she's interfering with his work" he says and his words make who this man is clearer to Annie. But these drug vermin disguised as hired hands aren't as smart as they'd like to think.

Lou tests the sharp point of her ring against her skin, thinking it's been dipped in poison. Annie slashes herself upon contact—summons the electric crack of a titan formation—and one titan arm punching through the carriage destroys everything; Annie's only regret is she didn't aim her shapeshifting limb at the spiky-haired idiot, Lou.

After ripping her arm from the steaming tendons of her Titan, Annie approaches Wald who rests against a wall, unable to stand. It's unmistakable – this man's build, name, and voice is identical to the one she saw spur a riot in Trost. Annie entertains the idea of poking his wound too—see how he likes it—after she asks, "Where is Carly Stratman?" but a gunshot stops Annie dead in her tracks.

Not _literally_ though. She's just never been shot through the heart before and her bullet-wound _is_ painful.

Annie collapses, plays dead on the floor. As she lies against the pavement, she wonders what Armin is doing right now - if he's safe, if he's sleeping well - while the lack of chivalry amongst scum plays its hand against Wald. Lou shoots his boss, guaranteeing him the seat as gang leader. Annie stands when the coast is clear and asks where Carly Stratmann is again.

"First you rob me of my legs and now my plans…" Wald coughs. Bits of blood fall down onto his collar as he lifts a cigarette to his mouth, "Heh. An eye-for-an eye, I suppose. I just...can't seem to win. First that damn Colossus then those military brats. Now _you,_" His head rests against the wooden planks of the wall, staring up into the evening sky, "And I was so close...too…but maybe it's not so bad." he hacks again while Annie stands, observes. "At least everything is calm now. I can see Father...my...son…"

The cigarette dangling from his lips fizzles out as does the rest of Wald's life. For the nth time, Annie feels...nothing would be too harsh of a description—it's more like she's detached. He's lower than roaches but Wald is an exhausting reminder of what she's done - of the lives her group destroyed or snuffed out - and Annie wonders if this piece of human-debris may not have been so horrid had his son still been here.

From then on, it's a never-ending twister of annoyances and letting out pent up stress through her fists. Annie finds where Lou is hiding and kicks one of his goons so hard, his intestinal tract is sure to be bruised; she cracks a jaw with her thrusting elbow and a high-kick knocks another goon back. The only fun to be had is toying with Lou, to slam him on his back and press cold metal from the gun he once pointed at her into his mouth. She pushes down and says, "_Bang" _and so easily, he flounders like a fish on land and chokes before passing out.

"Are you done?" A female voice asks from behind.

Annie stands from hovering over the unconscious Lou. This girl she agonized over finding is taller, has the air of being haughty and dresses as well - if not better - than Hitch. Annie expected to be bored at this point yet there is an odd connection as Annie asks why Carly manufactured and sold drugs within this town.

"Dad lost everything five years ago…" she recalls with a smile albeit a solemn one, "I did it to help pick himself back up. But that's also why I have to leave. If I stay by dad's side, I can't avoid helping him. Those stupid big lugs back at the tavern will buy what I make—what Dad promised to not sell here—and I don't want to hurt them anymore than they already have." The older girl winks at Annie, "So could you pretend that you didn't find me?"

A random shiver shakes Annie. They've only spoken for a few minutes and Annie sees how Carly's father doesn't understand her or consider her feelings any better than Annie's own. But this girl helped her father's financial struggles by producing this competing drug Wald fought to counter. It sounds...frightfully familiar—like what she was forced to do to help Father's living standards in Marley—but Annie assumes Carly's bond comes from a more natural father-daughter relationship, not complete obedience.

Annie grants Carly's passage out of Stohess then when all the loose ends of this mission are finally closed and tied, Annie walks down to the showers.

She wonders if Carly is her in another form, what she could have been had she been given a normal upbringing—if mother kept her. If Annie had Carly's skills of making protective friends like the ones from the bar and speaking suavely, maybe she'd connect with people better, know what to talk about when they ask how she is. And if she was raised that way— if she didn't need to capture Eren— if her and Armin met in Marley or were born as a non-Eldian outside of this place…

Annie screws her eyes shut, shakes her head. She turns on the water spout and hot water blasts over her head.

She can't afford any more distractions. Not for what waits for her in a few hours. Like she's done for so many years, all of it has to be pushed into the deepest, farthest spot in her mind.

* * *

Numbness to death is an adhesive she's never really washed completely off and it remains stuck to Annie still. The countryside she runs through would be peaceful had she not summoned the titans lurking here. The soldiers she eliminates aren't too much trouble either—the _crunch _of her clenching hand kills one soldier quick and swinging the other man head-first to the floor stops his yelling; this is a trade for them needing to die while she is in this form.

Everyone looks like that cricket she smushed under her foot: flat, bleeding, and void of life. She doesn't know these men—she doesn't care too much although her brain stings at the line drawing down against it; the mental mark of more tallies to her kill count. She's robbed of feeling right now but their faces will haunt her later.

Then there is another rider, one who flees quickly from her. She sprints and as she closes in, she can't make out the face—she can't kill unless she knows for certain it's not Eren. The ground _booms _from her foot-stomp in front of the rider. He yelps, topples off his horse and onto the ground.

The trembling of his spine is evident as she reaches for the Scout, pulls back the Corpsman's hood. Inside her titan, Annie's breathing halts.

Eyes she remembered being so serene and calm are petrified. As sweat runs down his temples, Marco's pleading expression flashes over this boy's face; how Marco pleaded with his eyes, his expression terrified and begging to understand _why_...it's how _Armin _is looking at her right now.

"_Have you started to feel compassion for this evil race, Annie?!" _Reiner yells in her head. _"Prove me wrong, right here!"_

Leave it to her memory and decade-long instincts to remind her—she's a Warrior. She isn't allowed to let personal feelings guide her actions. There is no question or objection she can propose which should stop her from stomping this Paradisan into meat-paste like the others.

...but Reiner isn't here; neither is Bertolt or Zeke or anyone else from back home who could monitor her. It's only Armin and her and for what might be the last time, she's stuck in familiar sea depths. Annie recalls everything this boy has done: his quick-wits which helped their entire team eradicate titans within the oxygen tank store room back in Trost, his bravery to defend his friends and offer his heart to the Garrison even as they threatened him with death by canons, how he saw _her—_saw through the cracks in the walls she puts up—and went after her anyway...

She glances over her shoulder. She doesn't see anyone coming—the rumble and creak of her Titan body is loud as her tree-trunk legs rise. Without looking at him, Annie sprints away.

If she is capable of making her own choice then she'll take this one time. It's not like she completely spared him either—the Titans she summoned will likely end him anyway…but her other side hopes by some freak chance, he'll remain unharmed.

Fatigue of running washes over Annie so she slows down, jogs to regain her energy. She enjoys the openness of the countryside again—so free of the blemishes humanity and society leave behind; there's just green, lively land to explore. This must be what Armin and Eren dreamed the outside world was like—barren of human life and a blank landscape yet to be mapped on paper. Annie tries to imagine the same and admittedly, it's soul-lifting, calming even. Her hand twitches. She recalls Armin's phantom grip, how he could tug on her hand to pull her forward, to come with him on his journey. It's a dream and another trick upon her mind...but it's peaceful, so soothing to stay in.

Her peace doesn't last long.

She hears the _clop-clop-clop _of horses advancing at her posterior and one of them is closing in. Her senses sharpen. Annie spins around and as the other rider gasps—tries to gallop away—she slams her hand into his horse. He flies off, pounds back down onto the ground and rolls. When he stops, Annie crouches next to the prey she's dismounted.

The needle-point of remorse pierces her; it's _him _again and, damn it, _this is_ _why_ she never wanted him here in the first place. Armin's eyes grow large as the blood running from his forehead stains the grass below him. He's chased her again and Annie self-reflects on if she should really be so surprised—he was engrossed in her mystery before although in a less monstrous form.

But she can't get caught. Her fists ball in frustration and she wonders if her Titan trembles like she does within these muscle-vines right now. _He's too smart to be left alive_. She's left him with no _choice. _She _has _to do this...

Her hands refuse to move.

A hook pierces Annie's shoulder blade. She twists around—Jean is blasting toward her, his expression fierce. She never did get a chance to get back at him for calling her a dwarf or insulting her nose; unfortunately, this may be how she will do it and not her human kick or punch like she preferred. Her titan hand clenches and she throws it backward. He dodges by the _skin of his teeth_ and so soon when he transitions to her other side, she has an opening. Annie's fist closes—she swings her forearm back again.

"_Jean, get revenge! _Avenge that suicidal bastard!"Annie's forearm screeches to a halt. Within her titan, Annie's eyes narrow. He _can't _mean… "She's the one who trampled my best friend! I saw him sticking to the bottom of her foot!"

_Impossible _is Annie's first reaction and Jean appears just as confused as she is within her nape-Titan chamber. If she crushed Eren, she would have known—she's been more than meticulous on who she's killed. Did the Titans she summoned on the right flank do too thorough of a job? Did she possibly…?

No, this intelligent commander Reiner briefed her on wouldn't place Eren in a section of the formation which was so risky and easily exposed to a Titan attack—he'd be safe, protected. Another question is where is their _Captain? _Annie isn't sure—she can't guess anything. She also can't run into each flank to check for Eren then decimate all its inhabitants while Armin's Ackerman friend and the Scout's Captain are floating about this formation. This is _exhausting. _

The whistle of an anchor flying and digging into her nape yanks Annie out of thought. Her chin and vision rise. Reiner—his lips downturned and eyes flaring with fake rage—greets her. He looks _ridiculous_ acting as heroic as he does now—she can't keep down a tiny smile; he always did have an act to play.

She grabs him in mid-air, tightens the fingers she has under his arms. She moves her thumb over his head, a mute promise how she can crush his skull like a grape. Armin and Jean panic below but it's the visible horror stretching Armin's eyes and mouth which has her heart plummeting. An explosion of blood erupts from her hand. _Finally, _Reiner is good for something. Through the mist of her finger-less hand, she sees "center-rear" scribbled in the steaming meat of her palm.

She allows his friends to gaze in awe of Reiner's escape—what he _always_ wanted, even as a child—then stands. Annie runs away from Armin and his group, and this time, they would be wise to stay away from her.

* * *

**The one horror I don't see talked about often (or perhaps it is and I'm simply IA too often) is how dangerous sharing Titan memories can be—how at random, regardless that being blood relatives increases the likelihood of you seeing anything, you see through another person's eyes. Put the wrong memory in the wrong person's hand and I don't doubt it could spell the end for your family even if you served Marley faithfully.**

**Weak dude…**

**There are also quite a few guest reviews I am not able to respond to so I would like to address them here: Thank you to you all! I wish I had a name to call you by so I could address it on a more personal basis but I appreciate your compliments to this story's essence, the characters being in-character, and an overall appreciation for this story. Thank you all again! I have to admit, my fear of them NOT being in character is my #1 concern in this story. I am glad in your eyes I have succeeded!**

**Till next time!**


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